The Moroccan Affair
by MLaw
Summary: Solo and Kuryakin head to Northwest Africa, searching for a machine that can grow diamonds that are virtually undetectable as fakes. Events shift like the sands of  the Sahara, taking them both in unexpected and dangerous directions. PRE-SAGA   Mild Het
1. Chapter 1

"**_All that glisters is not gold; often you have heard it told._**

**_Many a man his life has sold, but my outside of behold._**

**_Gilded tombs to worms enfold, had you been as wise as bold._**

**_Young in limb in judgement old, Your answer has been not inscroll'd,_** .

**_Fare you well, your suit is cold." _**

~ Merchant of Venice-Act II -scene VII Prince of Morocco.

**"The Moroccan Affair"**

Napoleon Solo sat at a table in the café Al-Masraf in the city of Marrakesh, a place that always fascinated him, with it's many alleys and soucs; it was exotic and mysterious like a beautiful woman. Yet under this particular woman's gossamer robes lay hidden a den of iniquity, thievery, prostitution, drug and slave trafficking...pretty much any sort of illicit endeavour that you could imagine went on there with in this old gal's city limits. It was too easy for it not to.

The city with it's tiles walls, Moorish influences, Islamic carvings and second story windows covered with intricately carved wood lattice work mashrabiya, offering perfect concealment for eyes peering out at the streets below while protecting from the heat of the sun.

Local law enforcement looked the other way while their pockets were filled with money; bribery was rampant among their ranks. That was about the only thing that was predictable about the place, well that and the beauty of the women.

It was just the sort of place where a particular species of bird loved to nest. Here they could be invisible, blending into the background while they schemed and contrived to work their way into the good graces of a young and inexperienced King.

Morocco was now a kingdom again under the rule of it's monarch King Hassan II , but it was still new to self reliance, having freed itself from the protective cocoon of the French under the rule of Mohammed V, Hassan's father and now it was attempting to fly off on it's own as a butterfly into the desert air.

It had actually been more a domination under French rule as the native Moroccans had no rights and were treated as second class citizens in their own country. And now they were learning to be an independent nation, taking their first tentative baby steps. Solo only hoped that those steps weren't taking them straight into the arms of Thrush's influence.

Napoleon relaxed his body, looking just a bit sultry as he tilted his red fez forward on his head; sipping his drink served in a Moroccan tea glass...coffee nss nss, made with half black coffee, half milk and spiced with a pinch of Ras el Hamut...cinnamon, nutmeg, cardamon and black pepper. He appeared to be watching intently as a belly dancer gyrated in the center of the room, her hips swaying and undulating to the rhythmic playing of a small group of musicians that sequestered themselves off in a corner of the room. The sounds of the ghaytah, a double reed wind instrument backed by a three stringed ginbri, accompanied by the bendir and taaiji drums all bringing her dancing to a near frenzy of erotic movements.

Seeing his gaze; her dark heavily made up eyes focused on him while the rest of her face was hidden behind a wispy veil, thinking perhaps she was garnering the favor of a wealthy and handsome foreigner.

"Not tonight Josephine" he muttered reluctantly to himself. Besides, she just wasn't _that_ good to warrant his full attention. Even her voluptuous jiggling breasts could not keep his interest as he reminded himself that he was not there for the entertainment.

Across the room sat the man that he had been following. Dr. Miguel Kadiri, a dark haired man with hawkish features of mixed Spanish and Moroccan heritage working for the feathered ones. He was a chemist and was purported to have discovered a process where by he could speed up the work of mother nature, creating diamonds of substantial size and quality.

If these were cut, polished and released on the market undetected, Thrush could garner millions if not billions of dollars to fill their coffers, enabling them to finance what ever devilish scheme they had in the works to achieve their ultimate goal of world domination What better way to manage that than to control one of the worlds most influential and monetarily successful trades, the diamond business.

It was "imperative that the mechanism developed to do this was destroyed and Kadiri either taken prisoner or eliminated," those were Alexander Waverly's exact instructions. And of course there was the usual codicil to keep collateral damage to a minimum; citing recent budgetary concerns.

Napoleon never liked being issued a license to kill, though sometimes it just couldn't be avoided. Yet he took cold comfort that his partner was a little more aggressive in that area than he was.

Not that Napoleon Solo wasn't capable of eliminating a target; he just preferred not to. Illya however had no reservations in fulfilling such an order, as the Russian had a ruthless side that had become evident over the years.

He suspected that it was something that had just been ingrained into him from his days with the GRU. There was a duality to his partner as he always came across as very decent and polite man, having a good heart, but that heart could turn very cold on a moment's notice when needed. There was a very private side to Illya that was ever guarded, not even letting his partner through that door, and he wondered what it was that had shaped Illya Kuryakin into the sometimes mysterious man that he had become.

The most important thing that he knew about his partner was that he could trust him with his life, and that was really all he needed to know about the man.

Firstly they needed to find Dr. Kadiri's invention, as well as the manufactured diamonds, then the decision to take Kadiri out or not would be made. Illya was off doing his scouting as usual, while he had the not so unpleasant task of tailing Kadiri. Napoleon had to admit that so far this part of job had been the least been the easy part. Being out of the midday sun was definitely a positive and he supposed the belly dancer wasn't such terrible a circumstance to put up with.

Rumor had it that a big shot from Thrush Central would be arriving within the next twenty-four hours to take possession of the gems, reportedly three of them, ranging from eight to ten carats in weight, D colour and internally flawless. Essentially perfect diamonds.

Purported to possess the same thermal conductivity and refractive qualities of natural stones making them virtually undetectable as fraudulent. Kadiri had figured out a way to grow in only months what it took mother nature up to millions of years to do in volcanic kimberlite.

The potential to manufacture these stones and flood the market with them was a terrible reality. That happening would essentially downgrade the value of the most precious gem in the world to nothing. Diamonds were not only used in jewelry, but high quality stones were sold as for investment purposes.

They were a hard currency that maintained their value and there wasn't a successful business man or company that didn't hide some of their cash in diamonds. This would suit Thrush's purposes perfectly.

As they did a controlled release of these flawless stones, they would milk the scam for all it was worth, limiting the release, manipulating the supply and demand as internally flawless diamonds were the most rare, and those of perfect color and a preferred size even more so.

Eventually the value of diamonds would be affected as these gems would gradually saturate the market, becoming as they say, a dime a dozen.

Major cities where diamonds were cut would be inundated with these stones. The production and distribution of diamonds had always been consolidated in the hands of but a few key players, concentrated in traditional diamond trading centers, the most important being Antwerp, handling more than 80% of all rough cut stones, and over 50% of all cut diamonds, commercial and industrial diamond, And New York City, was where 80% of the world's diamonds were sold, including auction sales.

With diamond exchanges in over 25 key countries the potential disaster from the distribution of these stones would be felt worldwide...Thailand, the Netherlands, Italy, Germany, the United States, Singapore, the United Kingdom, Israel and Japan, just to name a few would suffer serious financial setbacks if not complete ruin.

Once Thrush had gotten their ill-gotten gains, they could very easily let it be known that the market had been flooded with fakes, crushing the credibility of those who controlled the diamond supplies to the world, the ones they had duped into distributing them in the first place.

Thrush could then stockpile real gems, and literally sit on a small fortune as they would then become the distributors of natural diamonds, offering certification that they were indeed natural. Controlling their release, making them again a commodity in demand. And by controlling their release, the would control the pricing as well.

It was a scathingly brilliant plan, if only in it's infancy stages; the implications and potential for world wide financial damages were staggering. The domino principle would hold very true for this scheme if it came to pass affecting not only the diamond trade but major financial institutions and businesses across the globe.

.

Solo continued glancing at the dancer, but his focus remained on his quarry and at the same time wondering where Illya had gotten to. He hoped the Russian had been successful in his quest to find the chemist's lab somewhere within the city. Once they could take out the lab, then it would be a quick job to see Thrush's plan nipped in the bud.

The dancer finished, quickly gathering the coins and offerings thrown at her feet as she stepped lightly out of view with and obvious look of disappointment that Solo was not coming after her.

The musicians continued to play as the room filled the noise of conversation and laughter along with the smoke of tobacco and hookas. A cloaked beggar sidled among the tables, seeking money from some of the patrons before the owners could toss him out. As he approached Solo, the man's head remained unseen, covered with a knit cap and the hood of a tattered burnoose.

He held out a dirty hand towards the agent, palm upward in supplication. "Please effendi, a few coppers for an unworthy soul unable to feed his children.

Napoleon was not an uncharitable man, but at the moment he couldn't afford to have his attention diverted from the Doctor who was looking like he was preparing to leave.

"Sorry not now." He mumbled hurriedly," another time perhaps."

"But effendi please a few coins to buy some borscht at least?"

Napoleon attention snapped to, peering at what he realized were blue eyes staring out at him from under the hood.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a few darahim and Moroccan francs of avoid suspicion, dropping them into his partner's outstretched palm.

"A thousand thanks and blessings Effendi," the beggar said kissing the back of Solo's hand, slipping a piece of paper into it at the same time.

"Hey filthy dog out of here before I call the Gendarmarie! Veet allez, allez!" The proprietor yelled, clapping his hands at the beggar who disappeared like a human Sirocco out the door to the hot afternoon streets.

"Please pardonnez-moi Monsieur, these disgusting beggars and thieves come in trying to take advantage of our foreign customers. I hope his presence did not offend you. May I offer you another coffee? I saw that you were watching the dancing of Nahid very intently, perhaps I can have her give you a _private_ performance?" Solo chuckled to himself upon hearing her name, thinking it was quite appropriate as he knew that it meant _big breasted_. There were definitely some words he made a point of knowing in several languages...

Napoleon eyed Kadiri impatiently as he rose from his cushioned seat on the floor, trying not to be distracted by the host's groveling.

"No, no thank you but merci Monsieur. There was no offense taken I assure you." He said, standing up from his own seat, pushing the man aside as he headed towards the door after the chemist.

He took a discreet look at the note that Illya had passed to him, it was his partners ever so neat writing indicating an address. Obviously he'd found the lab.

Napoleon steeped out to the narrow busy street, looking quickly for the direction the Doctor had taken, when suddenly a burnoose was tossed at him.

"Put that on, otherwise you will stick out like a sore finger." his partner whispered from behind him.

"Fine, and that's thumb, stick out like a sore thumb"

"What ever...Kadiri went that way, we will follow him to see if he is heading back to his lab. Might as kill two Thrush with one stone? If he is not, then I will go to the lab and take care of it, and you will stick with him, da?"

Solo nodded as he draped the burnoose around his shoulders, pulling the hood up to cover his face.

The two agents moved casually, following behind Kadiri remaining virtually invisible to the untrained observer. Illya knew there were others watching, knowing eyes that might see he and Napoleon but his concern was not for them; it was for their quarry. Should someone realize it was the scientist they were after and intervened; the man could be spooked. And they would more than likely lose him.

If that were to occur then they would have failed in completing half their mission, leaving only the destruction of the machine to complete. The confiscation of the fake diamonds before they fell into the hands of Thrush would be another matter, if Kadiri had them on his person and they lost him; that would not be a good thing. The man being left alive would allow his project to begin anew, just somewhere else. They were under the gun and had to handle this before the little bird from Central showed up.

"Best guess as to where he's going?" Napoleon asked out of the side of his mouth.

"He is heading in the opposite direction of his laboratory. Perhaps we need to split up, you get the good Doctor and I will take care of the lab. Hopefully the stones are either with him or still there."

"Sounds like a plan. Which direction is his place?"

Illya nodded his head, rather than pointing. "It is approximately a quarter of a mile in that direction, you have the address. It has a distinctive green canopy over the door...please Napoleon, do not get lost when you return with the Doctor. Better still, maybe I should come to you when I am done?"

"No. I'll meet you there, and one small point of fact, I only get lost when I'm driving...sometimes."

Illya smiled at his partner's admission and with that slipped into the crowd, disappearing among those that were wearing burnoose's that were identical to his.

It never ceased to amaze Solo that the man, as blond and fair-skinned as he was had to ability to blend in with the background like a chameleon. He could be standing right there in a room with him, and he knew Illya was there, but still could not see him. Whether Illya was standing behind a display of greeting cards, or right next to a decorative palm tree, you wouldn't see him unless he permitted himself to be seen.

Little did Napoleon realize that this was possibly the last time he would see his enigmatic partner.


	2. Chapter 2

Napoleon turned away as soon as his partner faded from view. Manuel Kadiri, dressed in his western-style white suit and fedora was not difficult to spot amongst the traditional garb of the other passersby so he was able to lay back, staying out of sight as he continued to follow the man.

He grabbed his beige burnoose, lifting it from his shoulders, flapping it to disburse some of the heat radiating from his body that had built up beneath it from the strength of the midday sun, wondering how the women who wandered past covered from head to toe in their black burqas withstood the temperature.

Napoleon continued to follow his prey as the man moved onward, weaving in and out among the throngs of people, goats, and camels that filled the narrow streets. If it hadn't been for the choice of the man's manner of dress, he quite possibly could have lost him in the throngs of people that still moved like a sea of bodies despite the raging afternoon sun.

Soon it would be time for the faithful to be called to prayer, and adhan would be called by the muezzin from the lone Koutoubia minaret that was the spiritual guardian of Marrakesh. Everything would come to a stop as the faithful would spread their prayer rugs, bowing down to face Mecca.

He could easily lose Kadiri then as out of respect and safety Solo would have to halt his movement. Not that a Muslim would harm him, it was those non-believers observing him such as Thrush that he had to be concerned about. If he continued to walk during prayer; he would stick out like a sore thumb...as he had corrected Illya of the same saying and if Thrush was on the look out, they'd spot him instantly.

Kadiri diverted from the street heading into a small white-washed shop, appearing to be some sort of herbal apothecary. Solo positioned himself just outside the ornately tiled arched doorway waiting for the man to exit; drawing his silenced Walther, burying it in the folds of his robe. Then he addressed the man, speaking softly when he reappeared a few minutes later.

"Dr. Kadiri?" Napoleon smiled.

He offered a quizzical look at first to the man that spoke to him. "Yes I am he, do I know you?"

"Solo, Napoleon Solo."

Kadiri's face blanched, reacting to the name instantly,

"No problems Doctor please." Napoleon said as he pointed his gun at the man. "Do you have the diamonds on you?"

"No, no I don't...how did you find out about them and me?"

"Please Doctor, don't be so naive, U.N.C.L.E. has it's ways. Where are the diamonds then?"

"It's too late Solo, they will be in the hands of Central very shortly and then you will be unable to stop us. We will finally take over the world and put it to proper order...no more chaos. Just one central ruling government, called Thrush!" His face became red as he raised his voice spouting his diatribe to Solo, then suddenly Kadiri staggered backwards, his face becoming ashen as he grabbed his own chest. He seemed to be struggling to catch his breath. It was then he started to fall.

Napoleon lurched forward catching Kadiri before he hit the ground, cradling him in his arms. He shoved his weapon back into it's holster, checking the man's throat for a pulse.

"Damn," Solo muttered as he lowered the body down, quickly checking the man's pockets for the diamonds but finding nothing. He became aware that people were beginning to gather around trying to find out what had happened. Voices began nervously murmuring their questions aloud.

"What did you do to him?"someone shouted.

Solo knew it was time for him to make a hasty retreat, especially before a Gendarme arrived.

"Is there a physician nearby, I think it's his heart?" Solo called out, rising from the dead man as someone stepped forward to offer assistance.

Napoleon melted away into the crowd, heading to catch up with his partner in hopes that he had better luck.

After wandering the crowded streets assaulted by the sounds and smells of cooking and merchants selling their wares; he at last found the green-canopied residence, but saw no sign of his partner outside. He tried contacting Illya via communicator but received no response and that made him nervous.

Solo had no choice but to head inside, and was surprised to find the door unlocked, proceeding with his gun drawn as he searched the ornately tiled and curtained residence. The lab was found in the back, with two Thrush guards sealing a large device into a wooden shipping crate; his presence took them by complete surprise as he darting them instantly.

It was when he found Illya's weapon and communicator on top of one of the lab tables, that he knew for certain that his Russian friend was in some sort of trouble.

Searching quickly for the diamonds; he found nothing, then he examined what he surmised was the diamond making machine, attaching several charges to it, piling up what beakers of chemicals that he found around it's base. Then he grabbed a pole lamp, sweeping it across the work stations, smashing the rest of the equipment standing there.

Napoleon grabbed the bodies of the two guards, dragging them one by one out into the hall, then stood in the doorway, pulling the stem out of his watch, then plunging it back, setting off the explosives. It all went up in a nice controlled blast, making him think that it was one his partner would have been proud of.

Stepping back out to the street; he felt satisfied that everything that needed be destroyed had been taken care of. Now it was time to find his missing partner and the diamonds. He thought about contacting Waverly, but decided to put that off for the moment. Finding Illya was his priority, and the diamonds though important seemed almost secondary. In his mind, finding Kuryakin was now his mission.

He pulled out his cigarette case from his breast pocket, opening and adjusting the setting on the dial until the device began to emit a faint pulse. That was a good sign, it meant the tracking disc hidden in Illya's clothes was active. But it had a limited range so he needed to start moving before he lost the signal entirely.

It was too faint for the Russian to have gone back to the hotel which wasn't that far off and it seemed to show movement towards the southeast. That could be taking him towards the desert and Algeria. Napoleon knew he'd need transportation and supplies for that sort of trek, so he headed back to the hotel to retrieve their jeep that had stronger tracking equipment installed in it.

Solo climbed in after loading a pack with food, extra water and a small tent, then started the engine, shifting it into gear as he pulled away slowly having to navigate carefully along the crowded streets as he made his way out of the city.


	3. Chapter 3

Illya Kuryakin approached the door of Kadiri's residence, looking around to ensure he was free of prying eyes, he glanced upwards hoping there was no one watching from the the latticed mashrabiya that jutted out from the upper wall of the house across the narrow street as he pulled his lock-pick from his sleeve. The door was open within seconds, allowing the Russian to quickly duck inside, hoping that he had not triggered some sort of alarm system; all the more vital that he move quickly.

He tread cautiously through the residence filled with ornately woven carpets, brass lanterns, arched entrances draped with transparent curtains of burgundy and gold, passing a gently cascading blue and white fountain within a courtyard, going from room to room but seeing nothing of interest until he reached a locked door at the back of the house.

Kneeling down in front of the lock, he again used his pic and after two clicks the door knob turned without resistance. As soon as he stepped inside, he knew he'd found the lab. There was a metallic looking device the size of a washing machine in one of the corners mounted on an asbestos platform with more of the material covering the walls behind it.

It reminded him of a potter's kiln but he knew that it was nothing as innocent as that.; it had to be the diamond synthesizer. There was a large wooden crate nestled beside it along with some smaller ones; it was clear that this machine and it's acoutrements were due to be packed up for shipment.

He scanned the room, not recognizing some of the electronic equipment, but fought the urge to let his curiosity engage itself by examining any of it. That was when he spotted it, a small dark wooden box on one of the lab tables; he opened it immediately; nestled in a row on a cushion of black velvet were the three diamonds. All of them had been cut, faceted and polished into finished stones.

"_A diamond incarcerated in it's subterraneous prison, rough and unpolished differs not from a common stone,*"_ he thought to himself. But with the development of these _diamant faux_ all diamonds would end up becoming common stones finished or not, like the pebbles on a river bed. This scheme of Thrush's truly was a clever one.

Yet Illya smiled wryly as he picked up the largest of the gems holding it so it was able to catch the light, allowing it to scintillate; he could not help but admire the cold beauty of it, even though he knew it was a fake.

That was when Illya heard it coming from behind him; the click of a weapon being cocked. He stiffened instantly, placing the stone back in the box, then carefully raising his hands, laying them clasped on his head as he slowly turned.

"Illya Kuryakin," a familiar accented voice said his name.

"Narcissus Darling, I thought you were dead?" His voice showing the slightest bemusement.

She sighed, waving her weapon, indicating for him to move away from the diamonds.

"Oh isn't that just a bit of wishful thinking on your part? You know, I am becoming awfully tired of you showing up and ruining my soirees Kuryakin."

"Why thank you," he smiled," usually I have rather nasty names thrown at me, but a party crasher? That is a new one. I rather like it."

She ignored him, picking up the largest gemstone as he had done, admiring it herself..."What a waste, a real shame?" she said, "A girl could enjoy wearing something like this."

"I find it a bit ostentatious myself," he said. " But to each their own, if you like that sort of gauche look... on the other hand I supposed devaluing natural diamonds and destroying the world diamond market could be considered the real shame and waste. So Project Deep Hole did not curb your interests in things geological?"**

She laughed, a soft gentle laugh that one could almost find enjoyable. Illya always remembered that pleasant side to the woman, her lyrical laughter, perhaps the only thing about her that was agreeable and hardly indicative of the woman's bloodthirsty and narcissistic persona.

"Is that what you think we are using these lovely stones for?" she laughed again. " Well I suppose that is so typical of U.N.C.L.E's one-dimensional thinking. Perhaps a small demonstration of their true intended purpose is in order."

She placed the diamond on a small tripod on atop a device with a single toggle switch and a dial on it, then flipping the switch and adjusting the dial until a low level hum began to be emit from it. As she made further adjustments the hum increased in it's intensity until it became a strong rapid pulse. Narcissus turned the dial completely, then suddenly a tight beam of white light streamed from the the culet of the diamond, hitting a large glass beaker, reducing it to a melted mass of silicate.

'Impressive," Illya said dryly, not indicating his concerns over the implications of such a weapon.

"This is just a test model of course, once we grow larger stones there will be a full sized devices that will be mounted in satellites orbiting the planet. It will be a quick take over for us, to say the least."

His face remained passive, that annoying her just a bit.

"Don't look so smug Kuryakin, we will succeed. Our first task will be to target the United Nations and of course take out the American and Russian missile defence systems. Our message will be clear and decisive...can't have the so-called superpowers going off half-cocked releasing a nuclear holocaust on the world. What good would it be ruling a place that's been contaminated by radioactivity?" She laughed again."The entire globe will bow down and submit to the new order.

"What is it with these Thrush?" Illya thought to himself. "they just have to brag?" Though he was glad at Narcissus' willingness to gloat; that at least gave him a different view of the situation and knowing they were only in the test stages, made it a bit reassuring. In a way he actually owed her a debt of gratitude for being so forthcoming with her braggadocio.

"Now what to do with you Mr. Kuryakin? Do I just kill you outright?" She paused, pacing back and forth for a minute thinking on the matter, while still keeping her weapon trained on him.

"No I think not...perhaps a trip to Central in the Middle East is in order. You have been a thorn in our side for too long, so now I think you'll be of use to us. What would you say to a little re-programmed to serve as a mole for us within U.N.C.L.E. Yes, that is a deliciously ironic plan isn't it? You'll help us destroy your own organization from within."

"You are quite delusional you know that." he answered her sotto vocce.

That remark earned him a slap across the face, but it brought Narcissus close enough to him as he had hoped it would to enable him dive at her, wrestling her to the floor, trying to get the gun out of her hand.

Illya had no problem fighting with a woman, finally ending up sitting in top of her while he forced the gun from her hand, then pointed it at her.

"Oh this would have be much more pleasant if we were naked together in bed?" she cooed.

"Unlike my partner I do not dally with your ilk, so only in your dreams would that be possible my dear." He raised his fist to strike her in the face, intending to render her unconscious. But the words that he spoke were his last before falling forward unconscious on top of Narcissus, his face nestled right between her ample breasts as another Thrush agent had slammed him in the head with a rifle butt.

"_Get_ him off me now you fool!" She snarled at the the guard.

He lifted the Russian up like a child's toy, then let him drop with a thud to the grey slate floor, tying the agent's arms behind his back.

Narcissus ran her hands across Kuryakin's body, feeling his surprisingly strong muscles as she searched him, letting her hands drift down to his privates with a lustful sigh. Then she remembered the rumors about the Russian, that he preferred boys. "What a waste." she said as she relieved him of his communicator and other U.N.C.L.E. toys.

You'll wait here for Kadiri, and start crating up that machine," she ordered her guard. But first I want the Russian loaded into the truck, we go to Algiers and from there to our headquarters in Libya. And make sure you guard him well, his capture and my plans for him are going to be a feather in my cap with Central!"

Illya's eyes opened, finding himself laying bound in the back of a moving lorry. He had company, two Thrush guards armed with rifles seated on benches on either side of him.

"Look who's awake Marv," one of them said.

"The bosses have plans for you Russian, and it's about time. But you know what, I'm going to get some payback before they get their hands on you."

Illya's eyes widened; the man's obvious threat forcing him to give more attention than he normally would to a Thrush lackey.

"You don't remember me do you Kuryakin?"

"Sorry, _ornithology_ is not one of my areas of interest."

"Ornithology? What does that mean?"

"It means to me, if you have seen one bird, then you have seen them all."

That earned him a kick to the stomach, followed by another and another. Marv was pulled to a stop as he was just about to take his rifle butt to the Russian's head.

"Knock it off, do you want to kill him? Narcissus will be pissed?"

Illya bit the inside of his bottom lip, fighting off the pain from the assault; taking several deep breaths as he ascertained there was no real damage done.

It was stifling hot inside the canvas covered truck as it traveled along it's rather bumpy road. Every once in a while, the guard named Marv would give him a shove with his foot.

"I do not suppose it would be too much to ask for some water?"

The guards snorted, drinking their fill from their canteens in front Kuryakin but offered him none, tormenting him as they knew the agent was thirsty.

Illya shook his head, not surprised at their treatment. " Then perhaps an answer as to our destination?" He asked.

"Oh yeah, we _can_ tell you that," they laughed together," we're heading through the Sahara...bet you'll get real thirsty there won't you, because it's going to get a lot hotter."

Suddenly, without warning the lorry hit a particularly hard bump sending the Thrush guards down to the bed along side Kuryakin. The truck came to an abrupt and noisy stop.

"What the hell?" shouted the guards as they pulled themselves up.

There were loud curses heard coming from the cab, doors slamming, then more cursing. Then finally Narcissus came around to the back ordering them out of the truck.

"We've broken an axle!" she shouted at them with an obvious tone of displeasure in her voice.

The guards shoved Kuryakin out of the back of the truck not giving him any support, forcing him to topple face forward down into the hot sand.

He lifted his head spitting the grit from his mouth. " A little water would be good right now?

"Sorry Kuryakin, we barely have enough for ourselves for the trip back to Marrakesh. I'm sure you'll survive. And if you don't, then you don't." she snickered at him.

They began the trek through the Sahara, walking single file along the dunes. Two of the guards bringing up the lead and the rear with Illya between the armed driver and Narcissus. The bright sun reflected off the sand, reflecting it back in radiating heat that made the Russian perspire heavily and squint as his blue eyes did not do well in extremely bright light.

He staggered a few times then fell, not being able to maintain his balance in the unstable sand with his hands bound behind him. His throat was becoming parched and lips cracked from lack of water after walking for hours under such brutal conditions.

Illya was feeling cranky to say the least, he hated the heat to begin with and the desert, and now he hated it even more, but he remained silent; not giving them any satisfaction from his sufferings.

Suddenly shots rang out, taking out the lead guard. They dove for cover unsure where the gunfire had come from. Then there was only silence as it stopped as quickly as it had started, until the familiar sounds of guns being cocked came from behind them.

There stood armed Moroccans aiming their rifles directly at Narcissus, her men and Kuryakin.

"Yalla! Imshi! Kaffãr!"The one who was the obvious leader called out to them.

"What's he saying" Narcissus asked.

Her henchmen looked back at her in bewilderment as none of them spoke the language.

Illya let out a long sigh. "They want us to go with them, apparently we are infidels in their eyes."

Narcissus after screaming and resisting had her hands bound behind her back along wth her men; while there seemed to be some whispering among the presumed bandits about the Russian having already been tied up, but Illya could not hear what was being said.

Then one of the Moroccans approached him, tearing away his shirt, then ripping his undershirt as he examined his shoulders, apparently not finding what he was looking for; the man shook his head to the others.

The truck was searched, finding the prototype weapon that Narcissus had carefully packed in her bag, it was carelessly tossed it out onto the sand, seemingly of no interest to them. They took the Thrush rifles but when they found the box with the diamonds; it was held aloft accompanied by a yelping cry of triumph.

Illya, Narcissus and the two men had iron collars put around their necks, then they were joined together by a long heavy chain.

"What is going on?" Narcissus demanded of Kuryakin.

"I would venture to guess that after being searched for an owners brand on my shoulders, and these collars and chains, that these men are slavers and we will be taken to a slave market to be sold."

"What? I...I _can't_ be sold as a slave, I'm a free person. You tell them that Kuryakin, tell them now Thrush will pay to get me back!" she shrieked.

Illya remained silent, ignoring her hysterics as their captors pulled them to to their feet, dragging them off through the dunes of the desert to some unknown destination.

.

*Charles Caleb Colton, Lacon ** Season 2 Episode 26 MFU


	4. Chapter 4

Napoleon was beginning to get nervous as he drove in his jeep from the outskirts of Marrakesh. There was a tracking unit built in under the dashboard capable of picking up a signal at a greater distance than his hand held homing device, but even that equipment had it's limitations.

He pulled his communicator from his khaki shirt, opening it then placing it in his breast pocket enabling him to keep both his hands on the steering wheel while navigating the poor roads as the farther he got from the city.

"Open Channel D-overseas relay-Waverly."

"Yes Mr. Solo, what is your status?"

"Dr. Kadiri is dead of an apparent heart attack. The lab and all the equipment therein have also been destroyed, but the diamonds and Mr. Kuryakin seem to be missing."

"Missing you say? You are not intimating that Mr. Kuryakin has absconded with these are you Mr. Solo?"

"Illya taking them...you mean for himself? No no sir, I found his Walther and communicator there in the lab and given I ran into several Thrush guards sir, I'm thinking he did as well. There was broken broken lab equipment when I arrived and what looked like signs of a struggle."

"It seems that the visitors from Central may have arrived sooner than we anticipated."Waverly said.

"Yes sir, right now I'm tracking a homing signal from a disc that was hidden Mr. Kuryakin's his clothing. The signal is weak so whoever has him is on the move, heading southeast towards the Sahara is my best guess."

"Well catch up to them post haste Mr. Solo, retrieve those stones and Mr. Kuryakin of course. The sale of those man-made diamonds could still wreak havoc on the diamond industry as soon as it is revealed they are undetectable fakes and will put all diamonds in questionable light. Thrush may not make great financial gain thanks to you destroying the device but they can most certainly cause financial ruin. Please keep me informed Mr. Solo, Waverly out."

Napoleon maneuvered his communicator from his pocket with one hand, closing it, then continued following the beeping, as a red light flashed on the console, but it was continuing to grow weaker and weaker. Several miles into his trip it finally went dead.

"Damn!" he cursed slamming his hand on the dash. The only thing he could do was keep going in the direction that he'd been heading and hope for the best.

.

The trek through the oppressive heat of the desert sands had become brutal and their captors unrelenting, driving them onward by the crack of their whips. Narcissus learned quickly to keep her mouth closed after being man-handled when her continued complaining had finally worn on the Moroccan's nerves, but the slavers were careful to cause no damage lest that effect her price on the auction block.

Illya remained silent, trying not to snicker as he took some satisfaction in her more docile behavior; he did not want to let on that he spoke the language, as that could be an advantage, allowing him to listen in on their captor's conversations and possibly get an idea where they were being taken.

The only thing he could glean from them so far were discussions on the estimated prices they would get for their prisoners. It seemed Narcissus by virtue of her beauty would garner a high price, he on the other hand was thought to be too little and scrawny and it was supposed that he would bring the least amount among the four captives, though one of the men argued that his yellow hair would attract interest.

It was suggested though he bore no master's mark; that he still must have been a slave and a troublesome one at that, given the amount of scars they saw on his torso.

Illya hoped they did not suddenly decide that he might be more trouble than he appeared worth, and sighed, wondering if Napoleon was close enough to home in on the signal from the tracker that he salvaged from his shirt after it had been torn from him.

His fair skin was beginning to turn a nasty shade of pink as the sun and lack of water were getting to him. He stumbled several times until his legs finally gave out, but his motivation to move was the sharp sting of a whip against his back which did not cease until he struggled up to his feet. There was no hesitation on his part as he flashed an angry glare at the man with the whip.

"Yalla kalb_go dog, or you will feel the kiss of my leather mistress on your back again!" were the words shouted at him. At another point Narcissus too faltered as she fell to her knees; her black stiletto boots not conducive to walking the dunes. The Moroccan driving them forgot himself, bringing his whip down upon her, but Kuryakin stepped in it's path taking the sharp sting of it's leather in her stead.

"Why did you to that? she asked him in disbelief, with a vicious tone to her voice as she pulled herself up to her feet.

"Because my father taught me to be a gentleman...you stupid cow!" He became annoyed at her unappreciative attitude and his own impulsiveness, as his act gave him no sense of satisfaction; only more searing pain on his back was his reward for his chivalry as Narcissus offered no word of thanks, nothing.

They were driven on for hours by their captors to the near the point of exhaustion until they reached a small oasis; Illya initially thinking it was a mirage when he first lay eyes on it as the power of the sun had blurred his vision.

But it was real; Narcissus was brought water, while he and the two Thrush men were made to wait as the Moroccans and their horses drank their fill from the small watering hole. Then the prisoners were finally permitted to go to the water's edge, leaning forward on their bellies as they gulped down what they could before they were abruptly pulled away.

They were at least permitted to sit under the shade of some palm trees while the men ate a stew they had prepared, scooped up with khobz bread and munched on dates. The horses were allowed to graze on the small patch of green and given several juicy apples. But with the exception of Narcissus, the rest of them were given nothing.

Illya's head was pounding, not only from the heat and overexertion but from the fact that it had been quite some time since he'd eaten. And with his high metabolism and the protestations of his growling stomach; he was becoming concerned that he would have trouble maintaining the pace that had been set on their desert march.

He knew he was the low man of value on their list and if he lagged too much, it was quite possible that he would be abandoned to the embrace of the Sahara.

.

Napoleon continued to navigate his jeep onward until he came upon an abandoned truck on the meager road that he'd been following. The axle was broken and it looked as though the occupants had gone off by foot, but then there were hoof prints as well. He found a strange electronic device in the sand nearby, then searching inside the truck, he spotted a burnoose that surely had to be Illya's.

That satisfied him that he was at least on the right track; but it wasn't until he found the body of the Thrush guard that he was filled with a greater sense of urgency, unsure if this was his partner's handiwork of not.

He checked a compass, keeping in mind his friends not so facetious jab about getting lost. From the direction of the trail in the sand, it seemed that they were heading back in the direction of Marrakesh. Until he hopefully picked up Illya's homing signal it now seemed his only option to but double back to the city.

Napoleon put the mysterious electronic device beneath his seat then grabbed his canteen, taking a refreshing gulp of water, and that was when he saw it, a shredded khaki shirt lying nearly invisible in the sand. He hopped out of the jeep, picking the cloth up, giving it a sniff...it smelled like Illya with just a hint of that odd aftershave he would sometimes use when dealing with hot weather. He searched the collar, not finding the homing disc, which meant either good or bad news, but he hoped it was the former; that his partner still had the disc in his possession.

He wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve as he started up the jeep with a roar, trusting his instincts as he shifted into gear, heading back in the direction of the city.

.

The sun had finally set and it looked as though they would be making their encampment there at the oasis for the night, as the Moroccans had set up a small tent for themselves, lighting a fire in front of it as they settled in for the night.

A sole guard sat dozing beside the prisoners whose lead chain had been staked to the ground.

"Kuryakin," Narcissus whispered," if you could get one of the pins out my hair, you could use it to unlock our collars couldn't you?"

"Narcissus, thank you for such boundless confidence in my abilities, but I am afraid like you my hands are bound behind my back, so it is physically impossible for me to reach up to your hair."

"Your mouth, you moron. You can use your mouth to pull one of them out then drop it into my hand. But try not to muss my hair anymore than it is please?"

He gave her an incredulous look for a moment, then realized that was a rather clever idea on her part. He leaned into her immediately, nuzzling his face into her hair searching for a bob-pins. He latched onto one with his teeth, pulling it out then letting it drop to her waiting hands while spitting out a stray strand of hair from his lips.

She passed the pin into his hands then lowered herself down beside him, allowing the Russian to manipulate the pin behind his back, unlocking the iron collar.

He half smiled when he felt the lock finally click, then helped remove the encumbrance carefully from around her throat. He then felt her take the pin from his hands; expecting her to do the same for him as he started to lower himself down, enabling her to reach his collar easily. But then there was nothing. Illya turned his head to see Narcissus disappearing into the darkness.

"Chyort," he cursed to himself in frustration; remaining down on the sand, Illya closed his eyes, resigning himself to the sleep of exhaustion as there was nothing he could do.

The next morning there was a great commotion when the slavers realized Narcissus and one of their horses were missing. The man who had been charged with guarding the prisoners suddenly found himself chained among them, apparently taking the place of their lost prize. They argued among themselves as to whether to give chase after the woman, but their lack of supplies forced them to proceed back to Marrakesh, giving the woman up as a loss. Besides, it was reasoned; they had the three gems that would surely bring them a great price.

"Move you infidel dogs" one ordered as he kicked the Thrush men to attention. One by one they struggled to their feet, being lead over to the water for one last draught before the return to their desert journey.

The captives walked as quickly as their weakening condition permitted. The slavers not driving them as hard today, stopping several times to give the horses and the prisoners some water but still no food.

The next day they finally reached the outskirts of the city of Marrakesh, though this part was a seedier area that Illya was not familiar with at all. They were brought to a holding pen where others like themselves were chained to the walls, some men, but mostly women and children both young and old.

They were ordered to remove their clothes and handed crude homespun robes to cover their nakedness. The Russian refused to cooperate and was held down as his clothing was cut from him, and in the struggle the homing disc went flying out of his hand, landing somewhere in the sandy yard.

"Polchit' svoi ruki ot menya_get your hands off me!" He spat out at them angrily in Russian, for all the good it was worth.

He did not want to be sold into slavery but accepted that it was inevitable, knowing _that,_ he needed to appear strong and healthy. At the moment, offering a little resistance was the best way to do that. If he did not appear to be an able bodied man, then no one would buy him and he would more than likely be bartered off to work in a chain gang at hard labor, or simply disposed of as worthless goods.

His best chance at escaping would be if he were bought as a household slave, but he tried not to dwell on that at the moment as he was extremely hot, tired and hungry.

He looked out into the sand, trying to spot the homing disc, but had no luck. Even if he did locate it, his chains held him close to the wall and he'd be unable to reach it anyway. Illya closed his eyes, trying to squeeze his body into the shade along the wall as he awaited his turn to stand on the auction block.


	5. Chapter 5

Narcissus Darling was no horsewoman, and riding a lively stallion essentially bareback, across the shifting dunes of the Sahara desert was no easy task even for a seasoned rider. She had only a saddle blanket to sit upon as the movement of the animal made her bottom, thighs and lower back ache with pain. Every time the poor beast would slow it's pace she would prod it viciously with the spiked heels of her leather boots.

She had the where with all to at least know to head in the direction of the rising sun as continuing in that way would eventually get her closer to greenery and the city of Marrakesh. She moaned as the brightness of the sun rose above the dunes, chiding herself for not having stolen a water bag as she escaped into the night.

The pain in her lower extremities had become excruciating, forcing her to finally dismount the tired beast. She released the reigns, bending forward, supporting herself with her hands on her knees trying to stretch out her spine. She took a step backwards, suddenly losing her balance as the stiletto heels of her boots offered her no real support in the sand.

Narcissus' arms went up, windmilling as she tried to prevent herself from falling, and that was when the horse reared up; her sudden movement spooking it. It took off at a gallop, disappearing over the dunes into the desert, heading in the direction of the sun.

"Komm weider her, du blöde biest!" she shrieked in German. "Verdammt...verdammt, verdammt_come back you stupid beast! Damn! Damn damn!"

She finally calmed herself as she dabbed the perspiration from her forehead with the hem of her blouse, then ran her fingers through her hair trying to tidy it. She clicked her tongue in further annoyance as she felt a nail snag in the strands of her hair, knowing that it would soon break. Narcissus let out a long sigh, then started walking in what she hoped was the right direction.

.

It was near midday when Napoleon saw a figure stagger at the top of a dune then fall, rolling down and landing in a heap on the road in front of his jeep; pulling to a stop, he jumped out grabbing his canteen as he headed to their assistance.

As he saw the curves of the body, it became obvious that it was a woman lying face down in the sand; her long blond locks strewn wildly about her. The white blouse she was wearing torn, her tight khaki pants ripped and dirty as well. She had long black leather stiletto-heeled boots covering her feet; not exactly the attire one would wear when traipsing through the Sahara?

He rolled her over to her back, at first checking her throat for a pulse, then brushing the hair from her face to lift her head to give her a drink of water; it was then he received a surprise.

"Narcissus Darling, " he whispered, "fancy meeting you here? He gave her a quick but gentlemanly frisk, finding nothing on her. Then held the canteen to her mouth, letting her drink her fill until she did so too quickly and began to choke.

"Easy there Darling, slow down." He helped her to her feet, then held her as they walked back to his jeep. She sat in the passenger seat beside him, saying nothing until she regained her composure.

"So you going to tell me what you're doing wandering around alone in the desert?" he asked.

"I must look a sight, and oh will you look at that, " she moaned," I've broken a nail!"

"Narcissus, you nearly fry to death under the sun and you're worried about a broken a fingernail?" He tried not to laugh at her drama.

"How would you understand, you're a _man_. We women have to work at these things you know? Beauty just doesn't happen like magic!" she groused, snapping her finger.

"I'm sure it doesn't?" he smiled , "but you still haven't answered my question, what were you doing wandering in the desert?" This time he pulled his Walther from it's holster, aiming it at her.

She hesitated, staring at the weapon for a moment, " You wouldn't shoot a girl would you, especially one you just rescued?" She batted her eyelashes at him.

"I would if one keeps testing my patience." He smiled back at her, batting his lashes in imitation of her.

She moaned loudly, "Alright I suppose if you must know, my transportation broke down in the desert, on the way to Algiers."

"That wouldn't have happened to have been a truck with a broken axle would it?"

"Why ugh, yes it was, and how did you know that?"

"Don't try my patience any further Narcissus, where's Illya? I know you had him and where's the diamonds?"

She sat crossing her arms in front of her in a huff. "I have no idea where your friend is and that's the truth and the diamonds...my beautiful diamonds are gone!" she was whining now, almost like a spoiled child. "Please Napoleon, you have to believe me when I tell you that I don't know where the Russian is. Now could you just please give me a lift and drop me off back in Marrakesh, I simply must have a bath and clean up my atrocious appearance? Maybe you'd care to join me?" she asked him coyly.

"So she could actually think of someone other than herself," he thought, remembering his last attempt to seduce her resulted in failure, as she lived up to the name Narcissus, the legendary Greek who was in love with himself. Just like her namesake; it was always about her.

It was all that Napoleon could do to keep from laughing at her attempts to flirt with him, giving her no response to her invitation; he simply sighed as he started up the jeep, keeping his gun in his hand as he drove off heading back in the direction of Marrakesh. He had no intention of letting her lying face out of his sight. She knew where his partner was; he had no doubt about that, and where Illya was, he was certain to find those diamonds. He had to ensure that this Thrush femme fatale did not get to either of them first.

It was dark when they arrived back in the city, and as there was still no signal from Illya's homing device, Napoleon decided it best just to return to his room at the Mamounia Hotel. It being the former the palace of the crown prince of Morocco suited Narcissus' ego sufficiently and upon entering the room; she went directly to the bathroom to shower, moaning that the dry air was wreaking havoc on her skin.

Napoleon ordered room service while she bathed, a meal of couscous and bastilla, pita bread, dates and a salad, as well as plenty of fruits and water, foregoing the mint tea. Then looking at Narcissus' ruined clothing, he followed up with another call to the hotel concierge for assistance, managing to get a change of clothes for her. Though not the skin tight attire she preferred, a traditional Arabic galabeya dress and headscarf would due for now, along with a pair of functional leather slippers for her feet.

Narcissus stepped out of the bath, wrapped in a short white towel that barely covered her.

He made no to attempt to hide his interest in her body as he looked her up and down. "Feel better?"

"Yes most definitely, but I was rather disappointed that you made no effort to join me Napoleon. My feelings were rather hurt and that doesn't say much for your reputation?" she purred at him. With that she let the towel drop, " oh how clumsy of me?" she giggled.

That was an invitation that Solo's libido wouldn't allow him to pass up as he reached for the towel, making a half-hearted attempt to wrap it around her beautiful body. He let it fall again to the floor as he pulled her into his arms, pressing his lips to hers, his hand wandered along her skin until it reached one of her breasts.

She moaned as he bent forward, kissing it, then teasing her nipple playfully with his tongue as he lifted her in his arms, taking her to his bed.

Narcissus helped him to disrobe, but only after he cautioned her to be mindful as there might be a few explosive devices hidden in his clothing.

"There's only one explosive device I'm interested in at the moment, " she whispered, then let out a long sensual moan as he entered her.

It was a marathon session of lovemaking, Napoleon changing positions frequently as he pleasured her. Finally Narcissus took control, positioning herself on top for her personal frenzy, more concerned about pleasing herself than her partner, as she let out a wild scream when she had worked herself up into a quivering orgasm, Napoleon though was not far behind her as he released himself into her as she shuddered from her own self centered ecstasy.

She rolled off of him, pushing herself away from Napoleon as she now held him only in contempt, his usefulness to her over for the moment.

He grabbed her hand, despite her change in attitude as he wasn't quite finished with her yet; dragging her into the bath, running a cool shower for the two of them.

They engaged in sex again, then finally rinsed off, dressed then ate the food that had been delivered. Both feeling drowsy after eating they lay down together on the bed. Narcissus now keeping her distance from Solo, going back to her usual disdainful temperment.

She waited until she knew that he was asleep, then silently crawled from the bed. Narcissus made it to the door, then froze when she heard him speak out to her.

"Going somewhere Darling?" Solo asked, pointing his special at her.

"Well, I thought a bit of fresh air would help clear my head...do you mind?"

He laughed at her audacity, holding up the the door key for her to see.

"Don't think so." he smiled at her.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, stomping her foot on the floor like a spoiled child.

"Now I suggest that you lay back down and get some _beauty_ rest, wouldn't want to get any wrinkles on that lovely skin of yours?" He knew that statement would do it.

"Wrinkles...no I, I wouldn't want that?" she stuttered, as Napoleon's remark distracted her from trying to escape, exactly as he hoped it would. "So are you going to tell my what happened out there in the desert?"

She smiled as she returned to his bedside beside him in the bed, leaning on her elbow. "Our truck broke down. I became lost in the desert, you found me so voila. That's it, end of story."

"And Illya?"

"I told you, I have no idea where he is..." she smiled coyly. In her mind she was being completely truthful, in a manner of speaking.

He frowned his dissatisfaction at her answer, but knew that what she was telling him was partly the truth, though it did little to help the situation. He tucked his hand under his pillow, maintaining a grip on his gun.

"Remember," he cautioned her, "I'm a light sleeper."

Early next morning just before sunrise Solo was awakened by a soft beep coming from his cigarette case on the nightstand, making him take notice, sitting up instantly. He grabbed it, as his heart leaped; though the signal was weak, it told him that Illya was getting closer instead of being farther away.

"What is _that _noise?" Narcissus groaned as she pulled a feather pillow over her head," make it go away!"

"That my dear is a good sign that we both might just be able to find what we're looking for." he made that statement to try to get her motivated," Now get your overly-pampered rump out of bed, we need to get going."

"What no bath or breakfast?" she whined.

"Sorry not today, now up!" he said, pulling the silk sheet from her as she glared at him; tossing a banana to her from a nearby basket of fruit.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that your face could freeze like that?" he told her using a terribly serious voice as he looked at the rather unpleasant face that she was making at him.

She put her hands to her cheeks, feeling her skin."Oh my really?"

Napoleon shook his head, just a bit amazed that this woman was considered a top Thrush agent; confirming his belief that they were all just a sorry lot.

They dressed quickly, Napoleon surprised that Narcissus had not complained about her baggy attire, though he supposed the delicate white cloth finely embroidered with golden threads was quite attractive to a woman of her tastes.

They heading out to the jeep where he transferred to using the tracking device under the dashboard. The signal was still weak, but at least there was one.

Narcissus was still not forthcoming with any helpful information, so he had only the homing device and his instincts to trust.

The tracking unit seemed to be pointing toward the medina quarter, a part of the city known as the Kasbah. It was one of the the older parts of Marrakesh, an inner-walled citadel to which the wealthy once escaped to safety from marauders. It was known for it's narrow convoluted streets, numerous bazaars and hidden slave markets while the Kutubiyya minaret stood high above it, over two hundred feet tall overlooking that part of the city like a great reddish-orange sentinel.

Napoleon pulled his communicator contacting headquarters.

"Yes Mr. Solo what news have you to report?"

"Sir I've picked up Mr. Kuryakin's homing signal again and am on my way out now to see if I can locate him and hopefully the gemstones. I've also picked up an unwanted passenger, a little bird by the name of Narcissus Darling and I'm sure she's involved in this some how." He said eyeing her for a reaction as he spoke.

All she did was childishly stick her tongue out at him.

"Quite yes, well follow the old adage, _keep your friends close, but your enemies closer, _Mr. Solo. Keep me informed. Out"

"He sounds like an old fuddy-duddy." Narcissus muttered.

Napoleon ignored her, as his thoughts were on Illya at that moment, hoping that he was alright; wondering if he was in the hands of Thrush or some other entity.


	6. Chapter 6

Kuryakin had a small bowl of couscous shoved into his hand; he dug his fingers into the sticky semolina, scooping up greedily into his mouth, though he paused at first to at least savor the somewhat bland flavor of this meal before wolfing the rest of it down; licking the bowl, then his fingers for every last morsel. Then he quenched his thirst from another bowl filled with water that had been set beside him. The water at least gave his belly a feeling of being full for the moment.

He watched as the people chained around him were lead off to the main square, sometimes one at a time, or in groups of two to three taken to be paraded around before the potential buyers.

Once they had been viewed by the crowds that had gathered, the bidding commenced as the victims were chained to a platform in the center of the square. The interested parties would approach to view each offering, mostly women of varying ages and appearance.

They were pawed and touched with a rude familiarity as the buyers stuck their fingers into the mouths, checking the teeth, pulling away at the clothing sometimes taking it off completely as they examined the woman's breasts and the width of her hips.

Then each woman's chin would be lifted as a series of questions were asked of her, though no one could hear them, nor the answers. Some of the women cried, some cried out only to have their faces slapped into silence.

But most of the slave's faces were filled with a sense of resignation or indifference as they had surrendered themselves to their fate. Few offered resistance and when they did it was met with the sting of the auctioneer's whip on their backs.

A group of young girls were the next to be taken out; the humiliation evident on their faces as they were stripped this time and groped.

While the women were of all colors, shapes and sizes and ages, there was one particular golden haired beauty purchased for quite a high price of thirty Moroccan francs by a representative of a well dressed wealthy man who sat in a shaded sedan chair. It was covered in saffron colored cloth offering shade to him as he signalled his instructions to his man.

Illya watched as the girl was lead away by a rope tied to her hands like a wide-eyed child, though the heavy iron collar had been removed from her graceful neck.

Then it was finally the Russian's turn along with the two burly Thrush men. They were among the few males to be auctioned today, and with the exception of the blond girl, the only white people as all the others were either of Nubian, Arabic or Spanish extraction.

They were paraded as the others had been before them, but Illya tried showing a little resistance, as standing next to the larger men made him look rather puny. He was shoved along, and while being pushed he spotted the homing disc in the sand. He staggered, pretending to fall then barely grabbed it with his fingers as he was pulled to his feet.

He held onto it, filled with a sense of triumph that he had the luck to find it, wondering what were the odds.

"Who cared...odds?" Illya chided himself; all that mattered was that he had the disc as he squeezed it tightly in the palm of his hand.

Illya, Marv and the other unnamed Thrushie were lead to the platform and stripped of their robes, and immediately a murmur went up among the crowd as the two men beside the Russian were quite muscular.

The were all ordered to kneel as the cursory examinations began and as one potential buyer bent over fondling him, Illya resisted with a head butt.

The auctioneer brought his whip down on the Russian's pale back, this time a few of the lashes breaking the skin, and though in pain; he continued to stare at the auctioneer with a look of defiance in his blue eyes.

The bidding commenced immediately, as the auctioneer called out each subsequent price and the numbers climbed for the offers on the two men but not for the skinny blond slave.

Illya could hear some comments in the crowd regarding his scars, murmuring the supposition that he was a slave who was a trouble maker and hard to control. That did not bode well for him being sold to a wealthy buyer.

The final bids were made, money bags changed hands and the Thrush men were taken away with their heads bowed, lead by their chains with their new masters, leaving Illya Kuryakin alone on the platform.

The auctioneer called out to the crowd, trying to cajole someone into buying the man, citing the beauty of his golden hair and his eyes the color of the sky. Not saying it blatantly, but hinting that someone who liked boys would surely enjoy the company of the small blond slave.

He could see the resignation in the auctioneer's eyes as the man reached for the dagger in his belt; preparing to slit the throat of this worthless merchandise. No one wanted to buy the Russian.

A sense of panic filled Illya, that was when he decided to speak up, trying to goad someone into buying him, He called out in Arabic, French, German, Russian, saying that he was clever and spoke many languages and that he could read and write in all of them. He could be valuable as a translator for business transactions with any infidel and that he could help make his master a very rich man as he was also wise with numbers and money.

The auctioneer stopped, standing in awe of a slave who would do such a thing. This he had never seen before, and decided to sheathe his knife, watching how this would unfold.

A man approached Kuryakin, pulling his chin up roughly. "How many languages do you speak?

"At last count fifteen, more if you count some of the varying dialects," he answered in Arabic.

The man continued to question him, asking him to add numbers in his head, throwing a few more questions at him in Italian and Spanish, to which Illya responded correctly in kind.

"You bear many scars, are you a bad slave along with being a bold liar?"

"I was considered a warrior in my country, and received my scars in battle and as you can see I survived," Illya answered with a crooked smile.

The man laughed. "You a warrior ha! An intellectual I could believe! But you _are_ a bold and clever one, I'll give you that much. Twenty darahim!" the man called out.

Someone else took the bait following suit, raising their hand calling out another bid, followed by another and another... thirty darahim, then forty, then finally the bidding worked it's way up to a hundred darahim. A small fortune by most standards was finally settled upon for one small skinny slave who had the audacity to sell himself.

Illya watched as the price was paid, then a bag filled with a larger sum of money was handed to the auctioneer as a familiar dark wooden box was passed to the the man sitting in the dark blue sedan chair. That was an unexpected bonus to the Russian as he had assumed the diamonds had been lost.

This added a small complication to his hopes for escape, as it meant that he still had part of his mission to accomplish, as his retrieval of the diamonds would ensure they would not make it into the hands of Thrush.

Illya hoped that Napoleon was alright, and had managed to find the lab; completing its destruction as he had been unable to. And he hoped that his partner was able to pick up the signal from the homing device.

That was a lot of hopes for one usually pessimistic Russian.

He was lead from the platform, orderd to sit beside his so called master, the man in the blue sedan chair in the full sun and not on the shady side, that would have been within _his_ view. And the one thing the master did not want was to look at his latest filthy, half naked acquisition.

Illya watched the scene on the auction block repeat itself over and over until all those who had been chained to the inner walsl were now sold, or had their throats slit. He could not understand why those who had been unsaleable were not just set free.

Watching the senseless execution of innocents who had gotten themselves caught in the nets of slavers hung over his heart like a pall. He had always tried to avoid the involvement of such guiltless people in his own work, though sometimes he failed. But it was never deliberate...not like this.

Finally when the master's last purchases had been made, his new slaves where kicked into rising to their feet. They were all tired, and suffering from thirst but were given nothing.

"Yalla!" The guards shouted at them, seven people sold into slavery. One Nubian woman, the rest men... four Arabs, one light skinned Spaniard and one very pale blond Russian U.N.C.L.E. agent.

Like the others before them, they were lead away by the chains attached to their rough iron collars, following behind their new master being carried most regally in his sedan chair.

The streets in this part of the city were almost hypnotic to the tired and hungry Russian, the buzz of the thronging crowds squeezed into the narrow streets, the riot of colors, smells and sounds surrounded him. It was almost like skirting the edge of a very private ritual as he drifted into a daze.

As they exited the square, _Jemaa el Fna_, meaning _assembly of the dead_, where executions once took place back in the 13th century. They continued past the outer walls that were lined with stalls and their merchants hawking their own wares, seemingly oblivious to the sale of human flesh withing the inner square.

The slaves walked slowly behind the master's sedan; bombarded with street entertainers, acrobats and musicians all taking what seemed to be their accustomed places. All hoping to catch the generous eye of some wealthy passerby, such as Illya's new master.

There were monkeys leaping, snakes hissing, drums pounding in the cacophony of life. The scent of cooking food from the dozens of sellers offering anything from goat's head soup to fried testicles assaulting the hungry slave's senses. Illya tried to turn off those senses, focusing on just putting one foot in front of the other, keeping himself moving forward.

As the sun began to set small gaslights swaying from their hooks on the walls enhanced an almost ethereal atmosphere as dancers and musicians came into their own, as they were surrounded by small groups of onlookers as they performed.

Once away from the sights and sounds of the the Kasbah, they reached a much wider and passable street where they stopped and Illya watched in amazement as the master stepped from his sedan chair, climbing into a 1959 white Rolls Royce Phantom V.

Kuryakin and the other slaves were loaded into the back of a Bedford RL diesel powered lorry, sitting there together in silence, most of them just staring down at their feet, not wishing to look at each other as the heard the sound of iron locks clicking into place.

Who ever this master was, it was obvious that he had money and lots of it. The Russian knew that in order to effect his escape; he would have to gain the man's trust. That would take time, but that was a commodity that he could least afford, as the longer he stayed in bondage, the greater the possibility that it could become permanent. He had to somehow work his way into this master's confidence quickly, that at least allowing him to find out where the diamonds would be kept. Once he found them, he would escape. He had to believe that.

If Napoleon, like the Amerikansii Cavlary arrived in the nick of time, the the escape would become a rescue. Either way, it did not matter as long as it happened soon so he would regain his freedom with those dangerous diamonds in his possession.

He could not assume that his partner would be able to find him. The homing disc had it's limitations, even though he knew that Napoleon had a more powerful tracking unit in their jeep; it too could only track a signal so far.

The lorry finally pulled to a halt as the last rays of the sun bathed the line of the Atlas mountains in purple, though they were still far in the distance. The shrieking cry of swallows filled the air as they prepared to nest.

It was time for evening prayers, and those who were Muslim were taken from the back of the truck, given crude mats to kneel upon as they bowed with reverence facing Mecca; Illya found this a surprising consideration given to slaves, making him wonder what kind of man this master was?


	7. Chapter 7

Napoleon pushed onward, skirting around the city as it was easier than abandoning the jeep trying to navigate on foot along the narrow and sometimes treacherous streets of Marrakesh often called the red city, though he mused that it's color was closer to ochre.

It would really have been an almost tranquil ride had it not been for the sense of urgency that filled the U.N.C.L.E. agent over finding his partner.

The variety of plant life encompassing the outer walls of the city... giant bamboos, yuccas, palm trees, cypress, pines, cacti were a startling contrast to the desert sands they had recently travelled though.

The air though dry, was filled with the fragrance of flowering countless bougainvilleas, philodendron and rosebushes as they headed towards the city's oldest quarter, the Medina, within it the mysterious Kasbah.

There were many such Kasbahs in Morocco, the most famous one being in the city of Casablanca, thanks to the Bogart movie of the same name, though in fact it was the least memorable of the walled Kasbah citadels that stood in many North African cities and towns.

The homing signal was barely audible now, indicating Illya was on the move again, but at least it was pointing Napoleon in a more definitive direction.

He glanced over at Narcissus, noting that she was being unusually quiet, keeping her thoughts to herself as she held her hajib scarf tightly around her face. They finally reached the outskirts of the Medina, parking the jeep not far from one of the gated entrances.

Napoleon cuffed his Thrush cohort's hands together behind her back; the long sleeves of her robe concealing her jewelry from prying eyes as he took hold of her arm, urging her to walk along side of him while he monitored the tracking device with the smaller unit disguised as his cigarette case in his other hand.

He held it discreetly, trying not to let passersby seeing it or his look of frustration as the signal seemed to be weakening even more.

Napoleon stopped for a moment, looking at the narrow streets, trying to figure out which one to take. He decided on one street to the left and then signal strengthened, then another turn and it suddenly weakened, causing him to backtrack like a rat caught in a maze.

By late afternoon there was still no success at finding his partner and the winds had begun to pick up. He and Narcissus watched as all the merchants and pedestrians on the streets began to pack up, disappearing, pulling their head wear and hijabs tightly about them as the wind began to gust wildly.

"Shit," Napoleon cursed under his breath looking down at the cigarette case as the homing signal had gone dead.

"What? Lost your little sheep again...speaking of sheep, you two don't, you know? I've heard rumors about the Russian, so I wondered if you were the kind that swings both ways."

Napoleon shot her a foul look, but said nothing as his mind was racing, trying to focus on figuring out how to now get back to the jeep. He knew they were lost.

"Illya would never let him hear the end of it if he were here?" He mused to himself, but that thought only served to increase his growing sense of frustration and anxiety at not being able to find his friend.

"Hit a sore spot have I?" She laughed at him, knowing she had dared impugn Napoleon's reputation for his sexual prowess with the ladies.

The hot wind began to blast harder as people now scurried to clear the streets. A young man wearing in a white burnoose spotted the two foreigners as he held a hand on his skull cap, keeping it from blowing off his curly haired head.

He approached them with a look of concern in his eyes, bowing as he offered them a bit of advice in clipped English.

"Begging your pardon Effendi. You both had best seek shelter as quickly as possible as there is a sandstorm approaching. It will be very dangerous to be caught outside when it arrives."

"I'm afraid our vehicle is too far from here," Napoleon said, not wanting to admit they were lost. "Is there anyplace nearby that you could recommend where we might take shelter?"

"Come, if it is agreeable to you, I will take you to my master's house. I am sure he will not mind as he is always interested in speaking with outsiders such as your selves. Sometime he craves news of the world beyond Morocco. He would be cross with me if I did not come to the assistance of those in need of it. Please, come before it is too late...pardon, but I am being rude. I am Karim, servant to Säid Mustapha al-Hamza. His home is not far from here. Come?"

A strong gust of sand-filled wind stung their faces, and with no other option at hand Solo decided to trust the young man at his word. Something in his gut told him the fellow was being honest.

"Thank you Karim, my name is Napoleon and this is... um, my wife Narcissus and we'll gladly accept your kind offer.

She shot Solo a vicious dagger-filled look that if they had been real knives, they he would have been cut to ribbons.

They followed Karim several streets over, down a very narrow walkway to a heavy arched dark wooden door. It was a plain entrance, with the surrounding walls the same ochre color as the rest of the city.

The young man lowered the hood of his burnoose, pounding with his fist, then as a small trap door opened, and once his identity was confirmed; they were given admittance.

The three walked into a large exquisitely designed opened courtyard, encircled by cloistered arches lined with miniature palm trees and flowering greenery in terracotta planters and in the very center of the yard was a tall fluted fountain cascading water down to it's pool inlaid with blue and white mosaic tiles.

The lower portions of the walls were covered with zelliij, glazed multi-colored tiling in an eight pointed star motif, above this was a band of stylized Koranic text that was interwoven with floral designs. Vertical panels of intricately carved plaster stretching above the tiles were decorated with geometric patterns. It was all quite breathtaking and a stark contrast to the simple entrance.

Another gust of wind brought a fine dust with it as it swirled around them.

"Please quickly, I will take you to your rooms where you can bathe, and I will have fresh clothing sent to you. You will have some time to rest, then you will be presented to the master and break bread with him, " Karim bowed, showing the way with a wave of his arm.

They were lead inside to an opulent suite, the floors covered in intricately woven carpets, the walls draped in warm curtains, with ornate brass fanous lanterns suspended from the ceiling, inlaid with red glass, the candle-light emanating from them bathing the room in a warm, seductive glow.

The saffron colored sofas lining the walls were covered in large soft multicolored pillows, and behind sheer pale yellow curtains was a large feather bed. In the center of the room was a tiled bath filled with scented water; delicate lotus flowers floating on the surface.

The windows were shuttered tightly, covered with heavy drapes that protected the interior from the whistling sand-filled winds outside.

"Are you sure this is not overstepping your authority by doing this for us Karim, I'd hate to see you get in trouble with your master?" Napoleon said.

"No Effendi, it is part of our beliefs and considered an act of piety through which one expresses concern for the well being of another. My master observes the poor tax...that which purifies, as it is one of the Five Pillars of Islam. My master is a most pious and generous man."

Solo raised his eyebrows then nodded his acknowledgement to Karim as he left; then removed his jacket, loosening his tie; he sat on the edge of the bed. Narcissus stood, glaring at him, not saying a word.

"What's wrong now?"

"Wife, you had to say I was your wife!"

"Well, we needed a good cover, and besides I don't think our host would look kindly upon an unmarried couple sleeping together?"

"He could have given us separate rooms!" she huffed.

"And me let you out of my sight for one minute...not a chance Darling." He proceeded to remove the rest of his clothing, " care to join me in a bath my dear?" He smiled at her, turning on the Solo charm.

She turned her back to him, reminding him that she still wore the handcuffs. "That would be a little difficult with these don't you think?"she looked at him over her shoulder, smiling at him seductively.

Napoleon walked over to her, nuzzling her throat as he reached down, unlocking the cuffs. Narcissus rubbed her wrists, then wrapped her arms around his neck kissing him hard, nibbling on his lip, then drove her tongue into his mouth.

He lifted the galabeya, slipping it effortlessly over her head, then picked her up, carrying her into the bath while holding her in his embrace. They made love in the soft scented water, then drying themselves they moved to the bed, continuing their forbidden dance.

Narcissus moaned loudly as Napoleon drove himself into her again and again until together they climaxed together. She lay there nestled in his arms, finally whispering him. " I have to say, you are all they say you are and then some Napoleon Solo."

"So I've been told." he laughed softly.

"That's rather narcissistic of you...we may have more in common that I thought" she whispered.

"Only repeating what I've been told, but having that in common with you...sorry don't think so." He answered, crinkling his nose.

Narcissus angrily wrenched herself free of his arm, then rose from the bed, pulling the sheet around her.

At that moment a female servant appeared carrying the promised clothing for she and Napoleon.

"Pardon mistress, I bring these from my master, and he bids you to join him once you and your husband are readied." She bowed, averting her eyes as she laid the neatly folded bundle of clothes on a divan by the shuttered window.

Napoleon and Narcissus dressed themselves in the elegantly embroidered galabeya robes, a rich chocolate brown one with leggings for Solo, having orange and yellow stitching around the collar and cuffs, and for Narcissus, a bright yellow dress with gold stitching, and a pale yellow hijab scarf for her head. There were two pairs of pointy-toed babouches...leather slippers for their feet.

Napoleon reminded her not to try anything since her identity had now been established as being his wife, and local custom required that a wife be obedient and silent. Her outspoken nature would not be looked upon kindly by their host even though she was a foreigner and a non-believer.

"If you want to get out of here alive and in one piece, I advise you to behave? Verstehen_understand?" he told her in her native German.

"Natürlich...liebe_ of course...dear." She answered coldly.

She stood by the door to their room fussing with her head scarf, then crossed her arms in front of her, tapping her foot impatiently on the floor.

"In a rush?"

"Tsk" she clicked her tongue at him." I'm _hungry_."

Napoleon rolled his eyes at her, then checked the tracking device one more time, but much to his disappointment there was still no signal.


	8. Chapter 8

Karim appeared a few moments later to escort them to a great room, the floors covered in lush Persian carpets, rich curtains, decorated with potted plants and beautifully detailed porcelain urns. In the center of the room was a large round intricately carved dark wood table, with a dark green leather top, It was set low to the ground, surrounded by sumptuous pillows and cushioned arm rests.

A richly dressed man wearing embroidered royal blue robes and a saffron colored turban on his head stepped from a side room.

"Marhaban_welcome, " he said holding his palm to his breast as he bowed slightly." A Salaam Alaikum_peace be upon you."

Solo spoke little Arabic, usually relying on his partner to act as translator, but he was aware of the proper response to such a reverent greeting. Tough he was for once not at a linguistic disadvantage without Illya as Morocco was a dual language country speaking both Arabic and French.

"Wa' alaikum salam, Säid Mustapha al-Hamza_and peace be upon you.

"Ah well met Napoleon, but I am at a disadvantage as my servant neglected to ask your last name."

"Solo, Napoleon Solo and this of course is my dear wife Narcissus. I'd like to thank you for the offer of hospitality. I hope that it's not an imposition."

"I am being what you are sure am familiar with, a good Samaritan. It is expected of a pious man to do such things, and one strived to be as such. Please I am being rude, be seated. I am sure you hunger and thirst? The sandstorm looks as though it will last for some time and we are well protected within and you are _most_ welcome to take your refuge in my home. In the mean time, perhaps you can indulge me in some conversation?"

Napoleon and Narcissus made themselves comfortable sitting on their cushions and leaning upon the arm rests as a lovely blond servant girl brought them glasses of water with slices of lemon, then reappeared with trays of delectable foods, hot and cold salads to begin the meal followed by tagine, a slow-cooked stew with lamb, chicken and a medley of olive, apples pears, dates and nuts, but not with a complexity of spices.

Napoleon tasted hints of cinnamon, ginger, cumin and a bit of paprika, nodding his approval at the delicious flavor. The stew was followed by couscous, with spiced beef and vegetables, all served with bread as that was used in place of utensils to scoop up the food.

He carried on a conversation with their host, discussing air travel, answering the man's curious questions about the States and Europe, but none of the queries seemed out of place and for once Solo did not feel threatened. Regardless of his comfort level; he kept his guard up as a matter of habit.

Solo had cautioned Narcissus about keeping her mouth shut as in this sort of household a woman was seen and not heard. If she spoke out of turn, then she could end up insulting the host, and that was not a good thing to do, especially in the middle of a sandstorm.

He watched her as she struggled to do maneuver the bread, trying not to laugh at her and cautioned her with his eyes when she began to mumble about the lack of forks, spoons and knives.

The end of the meal was signalled with the desert, kaab el gzhal_gazelle's horn, a pastry stuffed with almond paste and covered with sugar.

The servant appeared, averting her eyes shyly as Solo smiled at her, bringing finger bowls and towels to wash and dry their hands and then time she carried in silver teapot with a long curved spout; the girl proceeded to pour them all glasses of mint tea in several steps, holding the teapot up high allowing bubbles and froth to form in the tea as that was how it was preferred in Morocco, accompanying the tea were hard sugar cones.

"So Monsieur Solo, what brings you to this part of Marrakesh, it is not exactly a tourist destination in this particular Kasbah," asked their host. One would think that the Kasbah of Ait Ben Haddou would be of more interest to a foreigner such as yourself."

"I'm not exactly here for pleasure, I'm actually in search of my, ugh...cousin who's recently gone missing. He's the scientific type so I'm concerned he might have gotten himself mixed up with an odd _flock_ of people."

He pulled a photograph of Illya from his sleeve passing it to al-Hamza. The Säid studied it but gave no reaction that he had indeed seen the man on the auction block at Jemaa El-Fna. He thought it best not to tell the man his poor cousin was now a slave, and in this part of the world that meant he was as good as lost, forever.

"Ah Monsieur Solo that is indeed a difficult task, as once a man has disappeared, whether it is of his own volition or not, it will be difficult to locate him. Morocco has a habit of devouring such people..."

Al-Hamza handed the photograph to his blond servant to return to his guest; she glanced at it and from her reaction Napoleon knew that she'd seen Illya before, but now was not the time or place to question her.

"Narcissus...darling, you look pale. How is your headache, has it returned, my dearest?" Napoleon suddenly asked her.

"Headache...I don't..."

He cleared his throat then flashed her a look that told her not to answer otherwise.

"Oh yes, yes it's back again." she said slightly confused but following his prompt.

"Sir, if you would forgive us, but my wife is not feeling well."

"But of course, is there anything I can see to for her comfort?"

"No, she just needs to lay down for a bit. Se'hha, merci bien_ thank you, thank you very much again for the wonderful meal and your hospitality." Napoleon smiled.

"It has been my honor to assist you, please though I must insist that you and your wife spend the night, it is late and the storm has not ended; better you stay here until is subsides." He clapped his hands and Karim appeared, escorting them back to their room.

"Karim, what is the name of the blond girl who served our meal" Napoleon asked him discreetly.

"Oh that is Alumdulillah...what you say in English Marie. My master said that if you were interested, she would be sent to you."

Napoleon was taken back at that for a second, forgetting for the briefest moment that these people, though seemingly well treated were still slaves.

"Karim, how long have you been a slave?"

"Oh my master bought me when I was but a small child, having taken pity on my. I have long since repaid my purchase price and could have left, but the Säid is good to me...he gives me food, fine clothing and a beautiful home to live him, so I have remained as his loyal servant."

Napoleon nodded at that, then knowing he needed to to speak the girl, s he consented to her being sent to him. Karim acknowledged his request with out judgement, offering only a silent bow then left, closing the doors behind him.

"Alright Narcissus, take off your clothes and into bed with you." he said quickly.

"That's not a very _romantic_ thing to say! And what if I say no?" she answered teasingly, obviously ready for more sex.

"Then I'll dart you, strip you myself and throw you in the bed."

"Mmmm, sounds kinky, when you put it that way." she laughed at him as she pulled off her dress, climbing into the bed, permitting herself to luxuriate it the soft Egyptian cotton sheets, stretching out with her arms letting them fall to reveal her breasts again to him.

Solo grabbed hold of one of her wrisst, handcuffing it to the bed frame, then covered her with the sheet.

"Eww I like it, now that's definitely kinky." she smiled.

"Sorry, I'm not into bondage. Now pretend you're asleep while I talk to the girl."

"Oh talk?" she pouted, "And I was hoping I could watch, maybe we could have a ménage à trois?"

By that point Napoleon had it with her, thinking that for a woman he at first had difficulty seducing; now she seemed to have nothing but sex on her mind. Had she not been Thrush and this been under the circumstances he could have enjoyed the possibilities, but not now."

He clicked his tongue, whispering the phrase he had already uttered once during this mission. "Not tonight Josephine," then he promptly shot her with a sleep dart, at least ensuring some peace for the night.

There was a soft rap at the door, and after calling _entrez_ in French, Alumdulillah slipped quietly inside; she was dressed in a thinly veiled dress, barely covering her. She bowed her head, but glanced at Narcissus asleep in the big bed, then began to slowly disrobe.

"Non, arrêtez_no stop." Solo said, knowing that he would never take advantage of a woman this way.

"But I do not please you Monsieur? The master said that I was to give you what ever you wanted. If he finds out that I displeased you, then he will be very angry with me." She said beginning to weep.

He took her gently by the shoulders, stroking her hair, offering her comfort. "Look it will be our little secret n'est-ce pas?" He lifted her chin with his hand, looking into her eyes with a sigh.

"Maire, may I call you that, it's so much easier that Alumdulillah?"

"Ouis Monsieur."

"How did you come to be a slave, you're not...?"

"I was orphaned and raised by a Moroccan couple, they died and my father's brother could not marry me off; he sold me into slavery as he could not afford my up keep."

"No one would marry a girl like _you?"_

_"_I am ahlul kitah_Christian, Monsieur. But it is alright as the Master has promised to care for me and says he will free me if I desire to leave in two years time. He is a very good, caring man and so handsome as well..." she smiled innocently.

Napoleon shook his head, thinking this girl had her head in the clouds for that man that had just sent her off to be a sexual play thing for a guest.

"But Marie he's told you to pleasure me, is that a very caring thing for him to do?"

"Ah but it is different, as you and I are both are not in the same class as my master's people. To him it is not a sin asking such a thing of me as I am not of the faith."

Napoleon shook his head, not quite understanding the logic of it all.

"Marie, I have a very important question to ask you, the photograph of the blond man that I showed your master. You seemed to recognize him, is that so?"

"Ouis Monsieur. He was on the auction block as I was in the slave market at Jemaa El-Fna. He was sold to a very wealthy man, and was quite lucky to be sold, as he was considered to be too scrawny to be a good slave."

"The auctioneer was about to slit his throat when he spoke up, using many languages to coax someone into buying him. Sheik Ali el- Mahdi Karmaj bought him at great cost. Your friend seemed a very clever man."

"You don't know the half of it," he mumbled to himself, then returned his attention to the girl. "Do you know where this Sheik lives Marie?"

"Why yes Monsieur he lives in a great house, with magnificent gardens in the Ouriko Valley. It is in the foothills of the Atlas Mountains."

"Merci, mademoiselle. That is the best news I've heard in a while. Now why don't you to make yourself comfortable on the sofa and go to sleep? You're safe here, understand? And you can tell your master in the morning that you pleased me very well, and you won't be lying because you have." He gently tapped the end of her nose with his fingertip.

Napoleon lay down in bed beside Narcissus, keeping up the charade that they were husband and wife. Better not to let the girl become suspicious.

Then he sighed deeply; at least he knew that Illya was alive and now had a clue as to where he was. Though the idea of his friend having been sold into slavery weighed heavily upon him.

Illya had pulled a bold move that saved his own life, and now Solo only hoped that his friend would be alright and not do anything else bold enough to get himself killed before he could find him.


	9. Chapter 9

Illya felt the lorry pull to a slow stop, then the flaps of the canvas opened and a blast of hot wind hit him in the face along with the others there with him. He closed his eyes for a moment trying to protect them from the sandy assault as well as to adjust them to the light.

"Yalla!" Move slaves!" one of the guards called out.

One by one they climbed from the back of the truck as they were shuffled inside a small house, Kuryakin caught a quick look at the surroundings, taking note there were more trees swaying violently in the wind as the landscape had changed, becoming more green.

He could still see the mountains off in the distance, surmising from their position they had been moving southeast.. The sky was growing dark and with the winds picking up and he guessed that it was the beginnings of a sandstorm on the horizon that forced them to this place, as this small house was surely not the home of a rich man.

Once everyone was ushered inside the house; the windows were shuttered tightly against the oncoming storm, but there was still fine dust that was finding it's way though any small opening.

They squatted in a back corner of the room, with their heads bowed as the master entered. He was seated on the far side of the room in a chair beside a small table and a curtain was drawn separating slaves, guards, and master.

But Illya could see by the shadows made by the lanterns behind the sheer curtain that a female slave was waiting upon the man, serving him mint tea as the water had been heated on a brazier filled with coals.

The new slaves remained huddled together, some with their arms leaning on their knees. No words were spoken...they dared not in the presence of the master.

A young black woman, one of only two women among the new slaves began to cough violently from the dust as it filled the room, making it harder to breathe.

"Maa'_water?" Illya had the audacity to call out in Arabic. " She needs water please."

A nearby guard hit him several times with a riding crop, until the Russian grabbed it, unexpectedly pulling it from the man's hand then tossing it to the floor in disgust. He flashed him his trademark stare that had unsettled many an enemy. This time it frightened the man completely.

"Ay-ah! This one has the look of a devil in his eyes, a blue-eyed devil! Do not cast your evil eye upon me Kafir!"

"Stop!" bellowed the master from behind the curtain as he pushed it aside with a sweep of his arm.

"You, slave, " he said addressing Illya, "You have quite an impudence in you. You shout out from the auction block to get your skinny self sold and now you speak out again not for yourself, but for another."

"She is in need." Illya spoke up.

"You will address me as Master." The man spoke succinctly.

Illya gritted his teeth, repeating his words."She is in need..._Master_." The word caught in his throat, choking him worse than the dust in the air. He averted his eyes, not wanting to anger the man further.

"What is your name slave?"

"Ilyãs...Master," he said his name in Arabic.

"That is a Hebrew name. You are a Jew?"

"No, Master."

"Muslim?"

Illya shook his head. "I believe in no God, Master."

"Ah you are infidel then in the truest sense of the word! Allah has sent His judgement upon you for this I think. Slavery will teach you piety and humility and show you the error of your ways."

"Give them water. " the Mahdi ordered his guards, " but not this one,"he said pointing at Illya." He must learn his place."

He looked at his yellow-haired slave, speaking directly to him one last time. "You had better be worth the price I paid for you Ilyãs, otherwise your life will full of woe and short."

"Full of woe...and short?" Illya half smiled to himself. " That pretty much described his life expectancy and quality of life as an espionage agent even before this happened. So the Mahdi's warning was nothing new or threatening to him at all. And besides, he planned not to be sticking around long enough to worry about such things.

The storm failed to be as dangerous as expected as they were farther from the desert, being closer to the Ourika, a lush valley in the foot hills of the long Atlas mountain range inhabited mostly by Berber people who practiced a more traditional way of life. There were a few primitives villages and settlements, but the Sheik was the man who controlled a good part of the valley.

The master departed in his Rolls, then Illya and the other slaves were loaded back into the lorry for the last leg of their journey to their new home. Once inside the back of the truck the slave girl that he had helped whispered to him.

"Marhaba. I am Nashwa and I thank you for your bravery, but it not wise and such actions will get you punished Ilyãs."

"Nashwa, I cannot sit by idly while others suffer, even at risk to myself.

She clicked her tongue. "Then Ilyãs you are truly a fool." She turned away from him saying no more.

The next time the lorry stopped was a the end of their journey. They exited the back of the truck, stepping out into another world, one that was in stark contrast to Marrakesh and the rest of their trip through a sea of sand. They were surrounded completely by greenery and vegetation, olive and fruit-bearing trees. The truck was parked outside a compound, the surrounding walls of which Illya reckoned to be at least fifteen to twenty feet high. A large wooden gate had been opened for them to enter.

"Imshi_go! They were ordered as they were lead through the gate into an immense tiled courtyard with a large fountain at it's center.

There were a few people walking about, stopping to stare as the new group of slaves as they were lead in by their chained collars to a room off to the side of the compound.

Once inside, they were stripped of their clothes, men and women alike, then buckets of water were poured over them as they stood motionless, washing the dust of the desert from their skin.

Illya licked his parched lips as the water ran down his face, trying to get some of it into his dry mouth.

The men had slave bracelets hammered in place around each ankle, but were left unchained at the moment.

Then one by one a brand was taken from a hot brazier and they were each burned with their master's mark on their left shoulders. Illya remained silent during the process while others moaned and the woman Nashwa wept. He only paid attention to the smell of burning flesh in the air around them.

Then each man was made to lay down with his ankles held between two bamboo staffs, with the soles of their feet raised up. Then they were caned, not enough to draw blood but enough to make it difficult to walk from the pain and swelling as they were lifted to their feet, being made to stand still naked against the wall.

The beating done to disable them for a short while and to instill fear in their souls.

It was all a part of the process of demeaning a slave into a state of obedience, giving them a message that they no longer had control of their lives, now only the Master had that power.

"This one, " the guard pointed at Illya" give him an extra good caning."

They slammed the thin switch against the soles of his feet, unlike the others who cried out; Illya remained silent, suppressing even the slightest flinch in reaction to it.

"Ah bold and brave!" The guard who's riding crop Illya had grabbed snarled at him. "We will see about that now _infidel_?"

The guards lifted Illya to his feet though he was barely able to put any weight on them. They looped ropes around each of his wrists, pulling his arms and stretching them outward, as he tried to hold himself upright.

The one with the riding crop, Ahmed was his name, unfurled a leather whip from his belt.

Illya grimaced as the first lash bit into his skin, each stroke stinging more against his back until he finally let out a groan.

"Good." Ahmed said, "so you finally acknowledge the kiss of the leather mistress! Remember her embrace well, lest you give her pause to caress your skin again! You have now been warned slave. Take him, see to his wounds, clothe and feed him." He ordered one of the servants."The Master will want him to begin his work soon."

Ahmed used the handle of his whip to lift Illya's drooping head, staring into the Russian's eyes apparently no longer fearing them.

"Just because the Master paid a dear price for you does not mean you are immune. Punishment will be swift and merciless if you betray the Master in any way or try to escape. Remember that you are the lowest of the low infidel dog of a slave!"

Illya lost consciousness as he was dragged off. When he awoke, he was still naked, laying on his stomach on a crude mattress. An Arab boy was applying ointment to his back as well as the brand burned onto his shoulder.

"Ah, you are awake at last. You must have done something very foolish to have incurred the wrath of Ahmed so soon, as you have only just arrived?"

Illya said nothing as the last of the salve was applied to his skin. It was not the first time in his life he had been whipped, nor would it probably be the last. He remembered feeling leather against his back in his boyhood when he was in the State run school in Moskva; it was the punishment that had been dealt him for speaking his mind to his teacher. He had been warned by the doctor treating his wounds in the infirmary that he had a bad habit of opening his mouth, wondering when he would learn his lesson and keep his mouth shut. * Apparently he still had not learned that lesson after all theses years, and probably never would.

"You can sit up now" the boy said to him.

"Ma ismuka_what is your name?" Illya asked.

"Ana Ismi Naser_ my name is Naser, it was given to me by the Master when I was born into this household, it means _one who helps_."

"So your mother is here as a slave?"

"My mother is dead."

"And your father?

"He is believed to be Ahmed, but there is no acknowledgement as such from him."

"And what is _your_ name?" the boy asked."

"It is Ilyãs." he smiled slightly, " Shukran_thank you for tending to my back."

"I do as commanded."

Illya stood up and the boy handed him a pair of baggy white leggings, apparently the only article of clothing he was to now posses, along with a pair of hard leather slippers for his feet.

"Come Ilyãs you are to eat and from the look of you it is none too soon. You are a very skinny fellow, so it is not good for you to go without food for too long I think or you will just fade away to skin and bones?"

"I have heard that word to describe me for several days now...you Naser are very funny," Illya smiled.

He walked gingerly as the caning had been quite a successful deterrent, making him limp as he followed the boy down a corridor then out a doorway to an area with several long tables set protected beneath by an awning in an open courtyard. Seated there were a dozen or so people, Arab, Nubian, Spanish, all with slave collars fastened around their necks.

There was a large iron pot of some sort of stew cooking on a fire and Naser ladled some into a crude wooden bowl, then thought twice adding a second ladle full before handing it to Illya. Then he gave him a large loaf of flat bread, poured him a bubbling cup of mint tea along with a few sugar cones.

Illya sat at the end of one of the tables, saying nothing to the others as they looked him over for a moment, then returned to eating their meal in silence.

He tore a piece of the bread scooping up some stew onto it, then paused, closing his eyes as the wonderful flavor hit him. It was mildly spiced with plenty of vegetables in the thick sauce and he even discovered bits of chicken and fruit in it as well. He nodded, surprised that the food for slaves was of such a decent quality, and it was actually far better than the stews he used to subsist on when he lived in the Soviet Union. Again he wondered what sort of man this master was.

Naser placed a bowl of couscous beside him and watched as Ilyãs devoured every bit of that as well, washing it down with the cup of sweetened mint tea.

"I will see to it you receive extra rations." the boy whispered." you need to be fattened up a bit if you are to do the bookwork for the Master. You need to be healthy as it is many hours of work, though not physically hard, it will tax your mind and your body none the less. Plus you need to be strong as you are now on the bad side of Ahmed. Who knows what things he will do to you? He finds pleasure in torment that one."

"Bookwork for the Master?"

"Yes I have heard the story of how you were bought, that you spoke out in many languages daring someone to purchase you as you are an clever and learned man. The master has dealings with people from other lands, he sells his olives and their oil to many foreign buyers. Translation is needed and someone to oversee the accounting books as well."

"Was there someone else who did this work for him?"

"Yes, he was executed for stealing. So it is you who will take his place now." Naser grinned," It is a great honor to do such work for the Master, though you will have to earn his trust at first. But once you have done so, you will be well taken care of. The Sheik treats those well who please him. I have heard that you are a non-believer, perhaps in time it would please the Master and do him great honor by converting to the Faith?"

Illya just shook his head at that statement, then it hit him, if he was going to be a bookkeeper for the Master, then he was missing something crucial.

"Chyort voz'mi_ oh shit," he cursed in Russian, " I do not have my reading glasses? " That could end up being a problem for him.

But at least he was being put in a position of trust, and that being the case; he could eventually find out where the three diamonds were being kept. Once he had that information, he could get his hands on them then make his escape.

Twenty foot walls were not a problem, nor were Ahmed and the other guards, as long as he remained relatively free of encumbrances like ankle chains, he would be alright. He needed to remind himself to bite his tongue and tolerate what said and done to him for now to avoid being chained at the ankle.

At this point he was no longer counting on Napoleon to find him. It was up to him to get the stones and get out of here on his own. Once he was out of the compound, he knew other problems would appear as he would be on the run as a branded and escaped slave and no one would give him shelter...if anything he would be turned in for a reward that would surely be offered for his capture.

He would deal with such things when the time came. Right now he needed to worry about being able to just read the Master's books and gain his trust.

.

ref * "Begnnings"


	10. Chapter 10

Illya was woken before sunrise by Naser and lead to the main part of the master's home.

"This is the way to the library and the one you much take each morning once you are permitted to move about unescorted. You are not to go to other places within the house until you are told to do so. Once morning prayers are finished and breakfast is prepared I will fetch you for your morning meal Then you will return again to the library."

"I will be back at midday to bring you to your meal again. You will not leave the library again until it is quite late, then you will be fed your evening meal again after prayers. You return to your quarters for the night, and tomorrow your day will begin the same as today as it will, until the master sees fit to give you other duties."

"You may only leave the library to relieve and purify yourself. Do not wander or dawdle as Ahmed will be watching you. I will stay here with you in the library at different times during the day."

Naser offered a chair to Illya to sit at a large desk lit only by an oil lamp, then dropped a large red leather ledger in front of him.

"The master's instructions are for you to balance the books? I do not understand what that means but I am sure you do."

Naser then placed a feather quill as well as a jar of blue ink and sheets of plain paper on the desk as well. Then he sat on a stool beside his fellow slave to watch him work, as he had been instructed to do by the Sheik.

Illya raised his eyebrows, looking at the size of the book, then without hesitation he flipped it open, thumbing page after page until he found the most recent entries.

He squinted, trying to see the numbers and read the notations, but the handwriting in Arabic was small and written with great flourish. He sighed, knowing that he was in trouble; massaging his furrowed brow as he was already developing a headache from trying to read.

"What is wrong Ilyãs?

"I have poor eyesight Naser and am having difficulty seeing what is written on the pages."

"Ah, the last bookkeeper had such a problem. Is that what happens to all men who are learned such as yourself?"

"No," Illya laughed, "though reading too much does tire a man's eyes. How did the last bookkeeper manage with his...affliction?"

Naser jumped to his feet, going to the cabinet from where he had retrieved the writing implements and paper. "Will this help? Mahmoud the old bookkeeper would wear such a thing when working.

Illya smiled when he saw a small pair of oval spectacles in the boy's hand, another hope to add to his list of growing hopes. Would they be too strong or weak for him to use?

"Thank you Naser, if they _fit_ right then they will help me." Illya unfolded them, wrapping the wired ends around his ears and letting the glasses settle in on the bridge of his nose before looking at the ledger. Once his eyes focused, he stared down at the page, seeing everything clearly and it became obvious that they were not a prescription type but merely magnifying glasses.

"Yes Naser, again you have come to my rescue. These will do fine."

Illya set about doing the math within minutes; adding, subtracting, multiplying quickly in his head then making notes where he found errors. When he had filled one page of his corrections, he had discovered going back through quite a few transactions that there was quite a tidy sum of money that had been lost on paper only.

The sums en massed by the Sheik were surprising indeed and the amounts he found in the the master's favor were what he must have thought stolen by the last bookkeeper. They turned out to be simply clerical errors, not costly to the Sheik but ones that took the man Mahmoud's life.

Illya had to be very careful with his sums, just in case, though it was very rare that he made errors when it came to mathematics. He could solve equations and solve theorems in his head without any problem, so a book keepers ledger was of no major worry, but caution was warranted none the less.

"Naser, this paper needs to be shown to the master, as I have located some of his missing wealth."

"How is that Ilyãs, Mahmoud stole the master's money?"

"No he did not Naser, he made mathematical errors that made it look like he was hiding some of the masters wealth but only on paper."

"I do not understand such things Ilyãs and I will take your word for it as you are far more clever that me."

Illya removed the spectacles, rubbing his tired eyes for a moment.

"Naser, can you read?"

"No, none of the slaves can, except yourself. That is why the master paid such a great price for you as an educated slave is a rarity and he had need of one such as yourself."

Kuryakin felt very sad at hearing that, as reading was the one consistency that he had throughout his entire life. He devoured books as a child, and books saved his sanity when he hid in his secret place in the ruins of Kyiv during the war.

In his ventures out to find food he would come upon abandoned books withing the skeletal remains of the ruined homes, and would bring them back to his hiding place with him, reading each book carefully. There were books by great Russian authors, books on science and mathematics, history... even fairy tales. He devoured them all as they were food for his mind, while sometimes his body went hungry.

He taught himself from these books and once he was done, he recalled them with his eidetic memory; he would burn them for warmth, though he hated the idea of doing it; it was a necessity.

He never worried about running out of them as he had found hundreds of books, and had stacks of them waiting to be read until he was captured and taken to the concentration camp. After the war, growing up in the orphanages and State Schools books become his only friends and companions. Books saved his life in many ways and now, this ledger was another book that was saving his life as well.

If circumstances were different he would have offered to teach Naser to read, but there would be no time for such a luxury. He supposed that what Naser had never known, he would not miss.

The day went along as Naser had outlined, and Illya stopped to stretch as hunching over the ledger all day had caused a crick in his back.

He removed his reading glasses, then went outside to relieve himself where he had told it was permitted, and as he turned to return to his work he came face to face with the red turbaned Ahmed.

"What are you doing out here you son of a whore? Slacking off from your work already?"

"No, I was taking a piss as I had been told I was allowed to do, _svolach_, now let me pass please, as I need to return to my work."

"What did you call me Kafir?" Ahmed growled, shoving the handle of his whip hard up into Illya's scrotum.

He gasped at the suddenness of it, biting his lip at the pain as Ahmed grinned at him, but forced himself to bear the discomfort in silence and make no move against the man.

"What did you call me, what language was that?"

"I called you _honored sir_, in my language, Russian." Illya lied with a half smile knowing he had actually called the man a swine."

Ahmed nodded, gullibly accepting the lie; he released the pressure, removing the handle away from Illya's crotch.

"Get back to where you belong," he snapped.

Illya bowed his head, fighting the urge to smash his fist into the man's nose, then limped back to the library as quickly as he could.

Naser returned to collect Illya after evening prayers, seeing to it that he was fed, then locked him in his room for the night. This was not going to be as easy as Kuryakin had hoped, without being able to move about the house, his plans would have to be put on hold.

He placed his hand behind the candle on the table beside his bed, blowing out the flame with a small puff of breath. It was deathly quiet there in his room, though it was essentially a prison cell, it was comfortable and relatively clean but still like a cell none the less.

As he lay his head down on the pillow his thoughts drifted to Napoleon; having that feeling that his partner was coming. It gave him at least some small comfort as he closed his eyes, falling into a dreamless sleep of exhaustion within minutes.

The next day began the same as the day before, Naser waking Illya just before dawn, escorting him to the library again. If this was going to be his routine, it was not going to suit his timetable that he had in his mind for escape.

He was hunched over the ledger, again under the watchful eye of Naser, his presence not allowing him the opportunity to look around and get his bearings, nor was the ever-present figure of Ahmed lurking outside of any help either.

Illya looked up as Naser suddenly jumped from his perch on the stool; feeling the boy tapping his arm to alert him to the Master's presence. He followed suit, rising from the chair and bowing like the boy.

The Sheik held the paper with Illyas sums and notes from the day before in his hand.

"So you have done well...Ilyãs. You have found for me that which I thought was lost. And so you shall be rewarded for a job well done, and this only after your first day as my slave?"

He handed Illya a short burgundy sleeveless vest, and an aqua blue Taqiyah skull cap with a red embroidered pattern, it reminding him of the Tubeteika caps back home in Russia or perhaps the doppa caps that were given as a sign of friendship? Thought he knew it did not represent that; it was still a positive sign.

Illya observed proper obeisance, thanking the master as he took the clothing from him, bowing as he had seen Naser.

"Thank you...Master." The word still caught in his throat, but he reminded himself that it was just part of his ruse, and this man was not truly his master...no man was that to him.

Yet he knew that he had masters of a different kind, back home in the Soviet Union, with the GRU and now U.N.C.L.E. Theoretically they both held his fate in the palms of their hands.

In Russia he did as he was ordered without question, always fearing punishment if he failed at a task, and now working for U.N.C.L.E. he had the obligation to go where he was told and do as he was told.

He had accepted this as part of a life he had no control over; this he suddenly realized made him a sort of a slave...never having had the choice of his fate.

Though he was told it was a choice to accept Alexander Waverly's offer, he knew in reality it was not. None one dared to defy the Directorate, and refuse an offer.*

He needed to think more on this, once he was back in New York, as it was an interesting conclusion that he had suddenly reached about enslavement. Perhaps he needed to re-examine his tenuous position and not be so accepting of this fate?

Now was not the time to dwell on this, as he needed focus on finding those diamond, remove himself from his current position and that was all. He cleared his mind of his other thoughts.

"Naser?"

"Yes my Master?" the boy responded again with a bow.

"You are to take Ilyãs and have him bathed, dressed and have him in my banquet hall after prayers. He will help serve the guests and I will need his services as translator to the monthly suitors for my daughter A'lia."

"Yes Master it will be done."

"Ilyãs," the Sheik addressed him again, " continue to find more of my lost money and you will be richly rewarded. I am pleased with myself for having bought you...yes, your boldness will take you places I think."

Sheik Ali el-Mahdi Karmaj turned away; his rich golden robes fluttering as he left his two slaves in the library.

"What was _that_ all about?" Illya asked.

"You have done well by pleasing the Master. And look at the gift of fine clothing he has given you? This is a very good sign."

"Indeed, but what is this monthly suit with his daughter?"

"The Master's daughter is to be married and he seeks a proper husband for her. Each month suitors attend, and the Master has something special planned for them. He has a wonderful feast and then afterwards they must prove they are clever and worthy enough to win his daughter. He as done many things, set tasks...asked riddles. The Master is a most clever man himself and so far none of the suitors have met his challenges successfully."

Illya sighed, even the Sheik's daughter was not free to choose her own fate. Though he was aware that such cultural customs as this existed across the world; he still felt at least that it should be a thing of love and not of command. Love, marriage...those were words that would never apply to him. Even if he survived past U.N.C.L.E.'s mandatory retirement age of forty, he doubted that any woman would have him.

The idea of seeking a bride such as these suitors were doing, he found repugnant; treating a woman like she was a prize cow to be traded. Their suit was probably driven due to the Sheik's wealth and the richness of the daughter's dowry, though that old-fashioned concept he at least approved of.

The Master's gesture and needing him for translation was a good sign, as he would now see other parts of the house, and he hoped that he was working his way into the Master's good graces. "More hopes", he sighed.

Illya finished off the bookwork then went with Naser to be bathed for the Master's banquet. He expected to have buckets of water poured on him as before but was pleasantly surprised when he was lead to a tiled bath filled with scented water and rose petals.

"The Master does not want anyone unclean and smelling of body odor," Naser smiled.

The Russian stripped off his leggings, climbing down into the water with a sigh, as it felt wonderful. He still suffered from the heat of the season, and this was just what he needed to make him feel better. For a moment he let himself forget his circumstances as he dunked his head under the water, playfully releasing a stream of bubbles from his nostrils.

When he surfaced Nashwa was kneeling beside the bath with a jar of scented oil and what looked like a Greek strigil, an implement used in ancient times to scrape the skin as a method of cleansing it.

"Ilyãs, I am to apply oils to your body."

Illya felt himself blush. "No thank you Nashua." he smiled shyly," that will not be necessary."

"It is not your choice, as it is the Master's wish that you be scented after you have been bathed."

He let out a moan. "Then I will do it _myself_."

"I have been commanded to do it."

Illya was not comfortable at that idea, being tended to by a woman in such a way.

"Nashua, I will do it myself and everyone will think you did it, alright? It will be our little secret, enh?"

She looked at him warily, not trusting his word at first." You will not betray me if I let you do it yourself?"

"You have it upon my word of honor."

She handed him a large towel, then turned as he rose from the bath water, allowing him his modesty as well as her own.

He smiled at her gesture as he quickly dried himself then wrapped the towel around his waist, though he had no problem with nudity whether it was in front of a man or a woman.

"Thank you Nashua." He said letting her know he was ready.

She handed him the carafe and scraper, then disappeared from the room as he applied the oil to his skin, recognizing it as aromatic lavender, then dragged the cleaning stick across his body to remove the excess oil.

When he was done, he dressed himself in his leggings, vest and skull cap, and as if on cue, Naser appeared to escort him to the hall.


	11. Chapter 11

Napoleon opened his eyes immediately upon hearing Marie's movement as she rose from the sofa preparing to leave. He lifted his head, winking at her, taking a moment to admire her shapely body; watching her blush as she smiled at him.

"Mmmm" he moaned quietly once she was gone." Man, he loved blonds...but then again he loved brunettes, redheads. "Nah" he said out loud. He just adored women.

The smell of them, their touch, their smiles, eyes, just the whole package. They helped to assuage the loneliness in his life, as they filled the void a night at a time that had been left by his Clara.

No woman cold ever take the place of his lost love, and each woman that he was intimate with served as only a temporary reminder that he was human. It wasn't love, and knew that it was shallow on his part to go from one woman's bed to another, but he needed at least that.

He would often joke with Illya about having it...the it that women wanted, but that it was driven by a neediness in him, just to feel alive sometimes; if just through that brief moment of mutual pleasure.

Napoleon craved a family, and a home but knew that just wasn't in the cards for him, even if he lived long enough to retire from section II in theory to replace Alexander Waverly someday; he knew the job would not permit him such luxuries.

No, his little dalliances with the ladies would have to suffice. Women enjoyed his affections and much as he enjoyed theirs and there was nothing wrong with that, it was real, if not brief to hold on to.

Illya once remarked that they had each other...if he didn't find the Russian; there wouldn't even be that. He couldn't fail, no he couldn't lose Illya...Clara, the love of his life and the Illya who had become his best friend. He withstood losing one, but could he take losing both?He had made a promise not to ever be close to someone again after losing his best friend Scotty Bob during the war in Korea, but he broke that promise, letting the Russian into his heart as his best friend.*

He looked at the beautiful blond Narcissus laying in the bed beside him, and found himself now suddenly repulsed by her. That begin the case; he knew that his infatuation with her was over as he had made his conquest. She was only the enemy now, unlike her co-worker Angelique, she was another long and on-going story.

"Come on Sleeping Beauty, time to wake up." He said sarcastically, poking a finger into her ribs. Unlike U.N.C.L.E. agents who were trained to react defensively at a mere touch; Narcissus barely stirred.

"WAKE UP."

He swore he heard a growl from the woman as her free hand came flying at him, but he caught her by the wrist before she could deliver the slap to his face.

"You shot me, you cad!"

"I gave you fair warning. And I am not a cad." He smiled at her as her walked to the other side of the bed, unlocking the handcuffs. "Now get up and get dressed, it's time to leave."

"I'm not going anywhere with you. I want you to release me, I've done nothing wrong.

"NOTHING WRONG?" He suddenly raised his voice at her. "You get my partner sold into slavery and you say you've done nothing wrong? I swear to you that if any harm has come to him you will pay and pay dearly Narcissus. As a rule, I don't hurt women, but with you I will make an exception."

"Oh so your little lamb was sold enh?" She laughed out loud at him.

"Good I'm glad! All you ridiculous U.N.C.L.E. agents deserve that...a fate worse than death. Shame I didn't get to see it happen to the great Illya Kuryakin...such a delicious thought that he's now a lowly slave! You know you're never going to see him again!" She tried taunting him but he wasn't being lured into her game.

"If you don't cooperate then I'll drag you out to the desert, leave you where I found you and you can fry. Just think what that sand and sun will do to that lovely skin of yours, much less your hair?"

"I am right about you being a cad," she mumbled as she grabbed her dress, pulling it over her head. "Can I at least have a moment in the bathroom?"

"Of course you can, but leave the door open and don't try anything." Even after her taunting he was still the gentleman.

"You're a disgusting pig."

"I've been told that too." He answered her nonchalantly while changing back into his own clothing.

There was a light rap at the door before Karim entered carrying a tray of fruit, yogurts and mint tea.

"I bring my master's apologies, but he will not be here to greet you this morning as he has business matters to attend to. He said that you are most welcome to stay longer if you wish and to offer you any assistance if you are in need of it."

Narcissus reappeared, looking a little more refreshed with her hair knotted up on top of her head in a bun.

"Ugh, food? Can we at least eat before you tear off in search of your lost lamb?" She eyed the tea, now moaning. "Don't you people drink anything else beside that mint tea, no coffee?"

"I can have it prepared for you if you like." Karim said.

"No, the tea will do just fine, thank you." Napoleon intervened. "Karim we will need a little help getting back to my jeep and I'm sure it'll need cleaning up from the storm. I left it by the eastern gate. Could you help guide us back there?"

"It would by my pleasure Effendi." Being ever polite, he smiled with a bow then disappeared again out the door.

After Napoleon indulged Narcissus allowing her to eat, he realized that she was trying to toy with him as he watched her slide a slice of melon seductively between her lips.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this but, give it a rest."

'Huh!" She turned her head away from him, feigning her annoyance.

"Enough, let's go!" He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her up to her feet.

"Hey, take it easy! " she howled at him as she dug her heels into the carpet.

He didn't miss a beat, grabbing Narcissus flinging her up and over his shoulder, holding her behind the knees as he carried her out the door as she kicked and squealed.

"Put me down...you, you beast!" She shrieked as she pounded her fists against his back.

Karim followed a few steps behind, covering his mouth with his hand as he hid his smile.

Once outside in the street Napoleon put Narcissus down, keeping a tight hold of her while he handcuffed her to his wrist, then tossed the hijab at her, hitting her in the face with it. She wrapped it around her head in a huff, turning her eyes from him, but to his relief saying nothing.

As long as they had been wandering the streets on the previous day, Karim managed to take them to the gate where the car was parked in a quarter of that time. The boy swept the sand from the interior, insisting that he complete the task alone.

"Thank you Karim for all your help and thank your master again for his generosity." With that Napoleon saluted the boy, then took off in the jeep with Narcissus now handcuffed to her seat beside him.

He followed the directions to the Ourika Valley that Marie had given him. By his reckoning it would at least a day maybe longer, given the conditions of the roads from the previous days' sandstorm.

.

Illya was brought by Naser along with several other slaves to the banquet hall. They too attired in more formal clothing, covering their usually nude torsos.

They were directed to the house Steward who gave his instructions as how to serve the guests, cautioning the slaves to avert their eyes, and to say nothing.

Illya was specifically cautioned not to speak up if harsh words were directed to him by anyone or all the slaves would suffer for his insolence...apparently word had spread about his bold temperament.

They were handed trays of food, carrying them carefully to the low table; seated it at it, nearly twenty men including the Sheik.

As Illya passed the far side of the table he glanced at the faces of the guests, even though he had been told not to do so. A number of them were not Arabic and he surmised that he would soon be called upon to translate.

Suddenly a foot shot out in front of him, Ahmed trying to trip him into falling with the food tray. This would cause embarrassment to the Master and would bring punishment.

But the wily Russian caught the movement and dodged it without so much as missing a step. That did not make Ahmed happy.

"Ilyãs." The Master called to him, clapping his hands. The Sheik sat in his cushions, a gold turban on his head and clothed in a royal blue robe, layered regally over the golden ones Illya had seen him dressed in earlier. "This man is from the Island of Rhodes, do you speak his language?" The Sheik pointed to the rather European-looking man seated at his right.

"Yes, Master. They use Greek, Italian, Turkish, and German there...I speak all four of those languages."

The Mahdi smiled. " Good, tell him I welcome him to my home, as he is a new suitor for my daughter's hand"

"Yes Master," Illya bowed, " but first I must determine which language he speaks. He said that, suspecting the man was not a native to the island as he bore no physical characteristics to the people there who were mainly Greek.

"Mitáe elliniká_do you speak Greek?" He asked the man, then receiving no response, he continued with the other languages. "Parli Italiano signor? Efendim, Türkiçe konusabiliyour musunuz? Sprechen Sie Deutsch?" The last one, German, caught the man's attention.

"Ja, ish spreche Deutsch."

Illya felt uneasy when he heard the man's voice, as it made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He suddenly had a strange feeling, one that Napoleon would call a gut instinct.

"Mein Meister heißt sie herzlich wilkommenin seine heimat_my master bids you welcome to his home."

"Dankt ihr Master_give thanks to your master. I am looking forward to meeting his daughter and tell him that I will be his future son-in-law"

Illya nodded to the man, repeating the words in Arabic to the Sheik.

The Mahdi smiled but oddly. "We will see," he said, "but do not translate that Ilyãs, " he added. That left the Russian wondering what the Master was up to.

Once the banquet had concluded the Sheik rose with a flourished sweep of his robes from the table to a large ornately carved chair that had been placed atop a nearby platform. Then he clapped his hands.

Several women then appeared from behind a screen, one dark-haired beauty dressed richly in fine rose colored silks embroidered with silver and gold threads stepped forward, the lower portion of her face hidden beneath a thin veil.

Her eyes caught the Russian's attention. They were dark, a deep brown and almond-shaped and he felt his heart skip a beat. They reminded him of Katiya Revchnkov, his first lover's eyes ** as well as those of Anucis Sakr.*** Illya sighed, as he had a thing for eyes like that.

"Snimite eto mal'chik_take it down boy," he told himself. "Oh but those eyes?" He let himself fantasize for a moment then stopped, knowing he was being foolish. But then he noticed something else dazzling about her; she wore a silver necklace with three very large and familiar diamonds set in it and that brought another smile to his face.

"Ilyãs." The Master gestured to him, snapping he fingers for his slave to come to him.

"Yes Master?"

"You will translate for me, some of the suitors are from South Africa, Italy Spain and Germany."

"Welcome honored guests. Behold the prize, my beloved daughter A'lia a most rare and precious gem, a pearl beyond price and around her neck is her dowry, three flawless diamonds. The man who satisfies my condition with have her, the stones and much more."

It took Illya a few minutes to translate, then when he was done, the Master prepared to continue.

"What more riddles?" A past suitor interurrupted him, calling out in Arabic.

"Riddles?" Is that what you wish? I can give you a riddle." He laughed.

"Once there lived a rich man, and as he was getting old, he thought of passing his fortune to one of his two sons. So he held a camel race in which the one who's camel finished last, the one who was the slowest would win it's rider the father's fortunes."

"The two sons were confused. They roamed here, there with their camels but not reaching the finish line. Then they sought help from a wise man. He whispered something into each of their ears and as soon as the two finished listening; they jumped onto the camels and dashed towards the finish line. Now what did the wise man whisper to them?"

Illya smiled as he knew the answer instantly; then he began the arduous task of translating the riddle to the foreigners. Once he had finished, the guests rolled their eyes, thinking, puzzling as they stroked their chins and beards.

Kuryakin stole a quick glance at A'lia, who at that instant was staring at him and their eyes locked. He looked away, becoming concerned the girl would complain that he had not averted his eyes from her. Then for some reason he felt compelled to look again, this time he could see her smiling at him through her diaphanous veil, that made him blush in response.

"Well, has not one of you the answer?" The Sheik demanded.

Minutes passed but no one offered to solve the riddle. Then as commanded, Illya polled each man for his response, but each one was incorrect as he told the Master their answers.

Then one of the suitors complained there was no true answer to such a question and it was a trick since so many intelligent men could not answer it.

The Sheik looked at Illya. "Is that so? Then perhaps I will put the riddle to a lowly servant to see if he can answer." The Master directed Illya to respond; suspecting from his clever slave's smile, that he knew the correct answer.

"Yes Master. The wise man told them to switch the camels, therefore if one beat the other, he could prove that his own camel was the slowest."

The Sheik laughed out loud. "See even a mere slave could answer it!"

"Not fair!" They called out. "He probably knew the answer before hand!"

"Fair, you want fair?" I can give you that." The Mahdi said clapping his hands."But there will be a price to pay for fair."

Five servants appeared, each carrying a small casket, made of gold, silver, lead, stone and wood that the placed on a small table beside their master.

The man who chooses the correct casket, containing a quote from the Quran, will have my daughter's hand in marriage and all that I have promised, as well as my daughter's pledge of obedience to her husband."

"Just as men sought the hand of Portia, in The Merchant of Venice by choosing the correct casket, so shall you do so, as the casket containing the sacred text will bring you my daughter's hand in marriage, and all that I have promised."

"The man who chooses the right box will be my new son-in-law, but choose wisely for it will not be as in Shakespeare's play where in the failed suitors were sworn to never seek another bride. If you choose incorrectly today then your hand will be forfeit. That is my price."

Illya paused, somewhat shocked at the Sheik's proposal, then as he translated a murmur came from the men.

"How can you you ask such a thing of us?" One of them called out.

"Ah then only the most serious of suitors will then dare take my challenge. Who will be first?"

Illya called out the challenge in all the languages.

It seemed their ardor was somewhat cooled at the thought of losing a hand. Then finally the South African stepped forward. "I will try." Though the look of fear was evident in his eyes.

"Keizen_choose." Illya repeated in Dutch as the Master said it.

The man reached then hesitated, then reached again. He stopped a second time then finally chose the silver casket. He picked it up, opening it slowly, the look on his face gave everyone the answer.

"Take him away!" The Sheik commanded, as the man screamed begging for mercy.

No one dared step forward, not even the German that Illya had been suspicious of. The Master instructed his slave to end the suit, and that was when Illya acted, trusting his instincts. If he was wrong, then he would lose his hand, if not his life.

He stepped to the caskets, picking up the wooden one, calling out to the Sheik. "I choose this one!"

Ahmed lunged forward grabbing Illya, pounding him with his fists. "Infildel dog, you dare presume such an honor is yours!" His hand reached for his whip.

"No!" The other suitors cried out! "He has made the choice, and you said any man could choose! You must keep your own word! You are honor bound!"

The irony of the situation was not lost on them, as the thought that a slave could potentially marry the beautiful A'lia was a payback for the cruel caveat that the Sheik had placed upon the suitors.

"Stop!" Sheik Ali el-Mahdi Karmaj bellowed. He was angry at his new slave, but even angrier that he was being forced by his own word to let Ilyãs participate.

"Fine then, open it!" But if it is empty, then you die slave!"

Illya took a deep breath then slowly opened the wooden case, smiling as he sighed. He reached in withdrawing a bit of paper, reading aloud what was written on it.

"Men are in charge because Allah made men superior to women, therefore righteous women are devoutly obedient to men."

The suitors erupted in loud cheers and whoops as the Sheiks face reddened with anger. He reached out, snatching his daughter's delicate hand, placing it in Illya's palm with a look of disgust.

.

* ref "Brothers Old and New" ** ref "First Kill"

*** ref " The See the Pyramids Along the Nile Affair"


	12. Chapter 12

"You know you are not the man I thought you were Napoleon Solo." Narcissus finally spoke up to him.

"Sorry to disappoint you, although I didn't get that feeling from you when we were making love?"

"Ha, you think you're _that_ good?I've had better." She sniped at him.

He ignored her attempt to rile him, though he did feel a pang in his stomach as she attempted to deflate his ego. He'd never let her know she had accomplished that in part. He couldn't recall a woman ever having said that to him, plenty of other things, but not exactly that.

"So why do you insist on keeping me with you? You have a handle on where your lost lamb is now being corralled...but then again, one wonders if he has been lead to the slaughter yet?"

"I told you once already Narcissus, you had better hope he hasn't been, because you'll pay dearly for causing it."

"I don't think so Solo. U.N.C.L.E. will most likely want me alive for my knowledge of the inner workings of Thrush Central."

She had him dead to rights there, but better she didn't know that.

"Valuable, maybe? But not _that_ valuable. U.N.C.L.E. has managed to operate thus far without bringing any of your kind in as prisoners; I think we could still function without what you'd have to offer us?" He smiled confidently, suspecting his words would unsettle her.

"And as for me keeping you in my sights; that's so you don't run around complicating matters for me."

They continued on their trek through the desert; the wheels of the jeep leaving a cloud of dust in their wake as they encountered extreme heat as it approached midday. Suddenly the tracker blipped, though it was a weak signal.

Napoleon's heart jumped at the sound as at last he was back on track to finding his friend. He pulled out his communicator, contacting Waverly. He stole a quick look at his wristwatch, calculating that it was around five o'clock p.m. New York and a safe assurance the Old Man was there; although it seemed at times that the man never left headquarters or slept.

"Yes Mr. Solo, any news?"

"Yes sir, I've got a positive lead on Mr. Kuryakin's approximate location and the tracking disc is active again. But there is a complication as it seems that he's had the unfortunate circumstance of being sold into slavery."

"Slavery, what the deuce? That is indeed a concern. Any hopes of retrieving the diamonds?"

"That I'm not sure of as of yet sir, but I'm hoping when I locate Mr. Kuryakin; he'll have an idea where they are."

"And Narcissus Darling Mr. Solo, do you still have her with you?"

"Yes sir, she's being her usual uncooperative self."

"Well deal with her by what ever means you find necessary. Those diamonds and Mr. Kuryakin are my main concern and not some Thrush temptress, there's enough of those to go around as it were. Understood Mr. Solo? Thrush is aware the Miss Darling has gone missing and we have word of another agent from Central now in your area. Adolphus Kruger, he is adept at money laundering and fencing goods for Thrush profit, but he is also has a reputation for being quite deadly. Be wary.

"Always am sir and completely understood," he smiled. "Solo out."

"Damn," he muttered to himself, " Another bird to deal with?" He looked over at his passenger. "By any means necessary," he repeated to her in warning, though he knew she'd already heard it.

Narcissus finally shut up.

.

The mostly disgruntled suitors were ushered out from the banquet hall, leaving the Sheik, A'lia and Illya present, along with Ahmed and several guards.

"You think yourself quite clever don't you Ilyãs?" The Mahdi hissed. "Now that my guests are gone, what makes you think I will honor this?"

"You risk your reputation Sheik," Illya said, no longer addressing the man as Master. " Word will get out if you do not keep your promises, and in this part of the world that can be most damaging in both private and business dealings. I assume you would wish to continue living in this manner to which you have become accustomed to?"

The man backed down at Illya's challenge, as the Russian had hoped he would.

"Now remove my collar, as I do not think that your future son-in-law can still be your bonded slave, as that too would cause you embarrassment?"

"Maybe I'll just kill you anyway, you insolent Kafir." The Sheik growled as he pulled a dagger from it's sheath.

"NO, father...please. Do you wish to shame me further, your word is your bond and I am promised to marry the man who lived up to your challenge and chose the right box. I am a righteous woman and will therefore do my duty, though it pleases me not."

"Ah my beautiful flower, my rarest of gems, I have raised you well. I will be a man of my word as you have found the strength to be an obedient daughter, and will permit the marriage. At least you are getting a _clever_ man for a husband." He said sarcastically.

"Ilyãs, I will expect certain things of you as you will be as my son, firstly your loyalty to my family, secondly that you continue to work for the benefit of your new family, and lastly that you convert to Islam. I can not consent to my daughter being deflowered and spoiled by an infidel, and your children, may Allah bless my daughter with many, must be of the faith. Are these things clear to you?"

"Yes...waalid_father." Illya said addressing him formally, offering a polite bow. He would play the game for now.

"Ahmed, remove the slave collar and bracelets from Ilyãs, and get him some good clothes. He is to be given quarters in the main house. See to it now."

The Sheik directed his attention back to Kuryakin.

"As intelligent and quick witted as you are, you have much to learn and not much time in which to do so." Sheik Ali el-Mahdi Karmaj said before leaving with his daughter and her servants.

"Come on you!" Ahmed ordered, giving Illya a little shove on the shoulder. "If you think a beast such as yourself is going to lay a hand on her, you are sorely mistaken."

"Do not threaten me Ahmed," Illya warned," you will regret it."

The man gave him a rougher shove, pushing him out the door.

Illya refrained from slamming his fist right into Ahmed's face, knowing now was not the time, but that time would come; he promised himself that much and when it did Ahmed would suffer. He had no intention of going through with the marriage to A'lia, as he'd now managed to free himself and knowing where the diamonds were, he could complete his mission and escape a free man. A _free _man, the words echoed in his head.

"But there were different degrees of freedom," he reminded himself, as he walked before Ahmed to have the symbols of his enslavement removed, repeating a phrase laughingly to himself, _no man is free who has to work for a living,_ * and he still had work to do. He decided thought after returning to New York, he would take a vacation...someplace cold.

After his collar and bracelets were removed he insisted upon one last thing being done and that was to have the master's brand on his arm burned away with a hot iron. He knew it would hurt like hell, but he would not live with that mark on his arm as it was...better just to make it another scar to add to his collection.

Illya was freed, the master's mark burned away and bandaged; then he was taken to his new quarters suitable for the future son-in-law of the Sheik. He found clothing waiting for him, such that was befitting one of his new found rank. There were leggings and a long fitted silk jacket, it's hem falling just below his knees and a pair of soft calf-skin slippers for his feet. One thing that pleased him most about it was that it was all black. He wondered if that was some sort of message being given to him; but none the less the color suited him fine.

There came a soft knock at his door as Illya sat on the edge of his large soft bed. Naser entered, his head bowed.

"Effendi, I bring a message from the lady A'lia." he said, bowing reverently.

"Naser I am Ilyãs and nothing more. Please do not bow to me."

The boy felt comfortable enough with him to relax, suddenly flopping on the great bed next to him. "I cannot believe your good fortune? I knew you would do well in the household, but not _this_ well and so quickly.

Could you request that I become your personal servant, it would be a great honor to serve you."

"Naser there will be no serving me." He couldn't take the chance telling the boy that he would be gone soon. " Now what is the message from the lady A'lia."

"Oh forgive me?" Naser hopped from the bed, " the Mistress bids you to meet her in the garden as she wishes to speak to you."

That brought a crooked smile to Illya's lips. "Show me the way Naser."

The boy lead him to an interior courtyard with a central pool, surrounding it were sunken gardens lush with Bougannville, Trees laden with bright orange fruit, and rose covered arbors, all surrounded by colorful tiled and intricately cared plaster walls.

As Illya entered the beautiful scene, she spotted A'lia still dressed in her rose colored attire, as well as the diamond necklace; seated at a bench beside the reflecting pool.

He cleared his throat, alerting her as to his presence.

She rose immediately.

"I apologize Lady, I did not mean to startle you."

"No, that is alright. I am fine."

Illya walked a little closer to her. "You wished to speak to me? He said very softy.

"Yes, as you are to be my husband, I thought it wise that I get to know you a little better before the wedding ceremony as that will permit me to serve you better."

"A'lia...may I call you that? I understand that it means _exhalted_; your family named you well."

"Oh you are very good with the words, are you not?"

"Generally with women, no, " he smiled shyly.

He stared into her lovely almond shaped eyes, wondering what she looked like under that veil.

"May I?" he asked reaching tentatively for it.

"Yes it is permitted since you are to be my husband."

Illya slipped the veil from her face, revealing very full luscious lips, a petite nose, completing the exotic image were her eyes. Her skin looked soft and very inviting, along with those lips.

She gazed into his eyes, the color of his skies seeing his admiration of her in them and though he was very pale, his face was strong and handsome, she found his yellow hair very attractive.

He shook the feeling away from himself. "A'lia, you are indeed very beautiful but would it disturb you to hear that I do not wish to marry you?"

She let out a little laugh, "Really? I do not wish to marry you either. I do not wish to marry at all. But Ilyãs we are both honor bound are we not?"

"Not really," he smiled.

"How can that be, we... I am under the thumb of my father. I have no choice as do you."

"What if I could offer you a choice...freedom from this sort of life?" He knew he wasn't really looking to save her; he didn't even know her. But she had the diamonds and he needed help getting out. Involving an innocent was not high on his list of options, but would use one if it became necessary.

She sat on the bench indicating that he should do the same as she patted the spot beside her with her hand. Illya joined her, keeping a respectable distance between them.

"Tell me of this freedom?"She asked.

"A'lia my name is Illya Kuryakin and I am no slave, nor have I ever been. I am a free man and an agent for an organization dedicated to protecting the world from evil men and their terrible plots to hurt innocent people. It is call the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement."

"So you are a sort of spy?"

"Precisely."

"I was taken captive while on a mission and sold into slavery only a few days ago. My mission is to locate these." He reached out touching one of the stones in her necklace."

"My diamonds?"

"They are not real diamonds, they are fakes that were grown by a scientist for use in a terrible weapon that can fire a beam of light that can cause great damage."

"You mean a laser?"

Illya was taken back by her very intelligent and obviously well-informed answer.

"When you are kept in a household all your life, books become your friends. " she said, " I read many types on science, history, sociology. My father doted on me and indulged my whim for this passion and provided me with very many tutors. Some of whom were from Europe. Hmmm...Europe." she sighed, " How I long to see it. Paris, Rome...I have seen such beautiful pictures in my books. No deserts, they have no deserts there. Such a wonderful place."

"But I will tell you, Ilyãs where my diamonds go...I go."

"This conversation could not have gone any better?" Illya thought. "A'lia, what if I told you that I could get you to Europe?"

"You could?"

"Most definitely. I need to leave this place and I must take those stones with me. I need to complete my mission and get them to my organization...can you help me do this?" Illya hated asking this of her, but it seemed he had no other option.

"Help you escape, us escape?"

"Yes." he smiled at her.

"I can do this. When would you want to leave?" Her eyes were filled with excitement.

"Could it be done tonight?"

"Yes, it would work as the household his now a flurry of activity making preparations for the wedding. My father leaves for Marrakesh this evening to make purchases for the nuptials and will not return until morning. Yes, I will make arrangements for transportation, food and water as well as money for our travels. It would be best if we escape into the desert."

Illya frowned at that proposal.

"We have no choice as the roads through the mountains are too treacherous, there is much snow in them now. And we dare not go to Marrakesh or any other city for that matter. My father has many contacts and as soon as word gets out that we are missing, his agents will be crawling everywhere in search of us."

"Snow?" he sighed, "Where I come from there is snow not just in the mountains, it falls everywhere so heavily that it can become deeper than a man is tall and sometimes drifts higher that the rooftops."

"This I would like to see, where is your country?"

"It is Russia, but my home now is in New York in America."

"Then I look forward to seeing New York some day," she smiled.

Illya felt that warning signal go off in his stomach when it came to women, hoping his offer to take her away from her father's control would not trigger some unwanted feelings towards him, but like other issues; he would deal with it later if it arose and not worry about it for now.

"Then we will meet here at midnight," she said.

"Yes, I know the way now so there will be no need to involve Naser. I do not want the boy to suffer in any way for my actions, so the less he knows, the safer he will be." Illya bowed to her politely then left the garden, hoping the arrangements he had just made were not some sort of trap.

He returned at the designated time, dressed in more suitable clothes sent to him by A'lia. He was attired like one of the Moroccan blue men, who were a ferocious nomadic people whose reputation had entered them into realm of myth and legend. They came from the southern fringes of Morocco, belonging to the Rguibat Berbers, but were related to the Tuareg. They now made a good living offering protection to camel trains and caravans crossing the desert.

His robes were a faded blue, and he sported a veil and scarf wrapped tightly around his head, functionally to keep out the desert sand, but in reality to hide his blond hair and fair skin.

When he reached the garden he found A'lia dressed similarly in a man's attire. This made sense as once they were discovered missing, her father would send searchers looking for a blond infidel and a woman.

He smiled, not only was A'lia beautiful and intelligent, but clever as well.

"Come Ilyãs, we go to the main gate," she whispered, taking him by the hand. He followed her through a secret door hidden among the arbors, taking a narrow passageway that lead behind the interior walls of the house, to anothe door that opened to the main courtyard where he had first been brought in chains to the compound.

Once it was determined the way was clear, they exited the secret door.

Without warning, Illya felt a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"What are you doing you filthy Kafir?" Ahmed growled.

Illya swung around without warning, throwing a round house kick, hitting the man squarely in the face with his foot. Ahmed's head snapped back; the impact breaking his jaw, knocking him unconscious. Kuryakin dragged the heavy body back behind the arbor that lined that part of the wall, then rejoined A'lia.

Together they opened the heavy gate, then both of them stepped beyond it to the outside world. There beside the gate were three camels, two set for riders and one loaded with supplies.

"Come?"

"Camels? That is the best transportation you could find?" He stared at the beast closest to him, as it eyed him chewing it's cud. Illya anticipated being spat upon any second, as he and camels did not get along.

"Yes they are the best when traveling through the desert."

"A'lia, with all your father's wealth, he does not own a vehicle that would be suitable for desert travel...such as a jeep?

"No he prefers the traditional mode of transportation, though it is very rare now that he travels into the Sahara."

Kuryakin sighed deeply; he and the beasts known as the _ships of the desert_ did not have a good track record, just as _he_ did not have with _ships of the sea_.

.

ref * "The Bow Wow Affair"


	13. Chapter 13

The sun was just beginning to rise when Illya pulled his camel to a stop, using the riding crop to get the beast to lower itself down. He hopped off it quickly, not only feeling the pain in his lower extremities but in his back as well, but it was the nausea in his stomach and dizziness that forced him to halt.

He knelt beside the camel, hidden from A'lia's view as he began to retch violently, ridding himself of nothing but stomach bile as he had not eaten since the day before.

"Ilyãs are you alright?" She called over to him.

Once he was done gagging, he answered her." Fine, I am just fine."

A'lia slipped down from her camel, stepping around to see the Russian on his knees, the sand in front of him wet where he had gotten sick.

She was startled when she saw the pallor of his skin, he had gone so pale that it had taken on a bluish-green tinge to it.

"You are not fine, you are sick!" She pulled one of the water skins from her saddle soaking a cloth from her saddle bag; she applied it to his face.

He tried half-heartedly to push it away. "Really I am fine, just a bit of seasickness, that is all."

"How can you be seasick, you are on dry land?"

"I meant to say that it was motion sickness. It was the constant rocking and swaying of the camel..." he stopped covering his mouth with his hand, turning away from her in embarrassment as he got sick again. When he was finished, he tried speaking to her. "Really, I will be alright...you would not happen to have some ginger root in the supplies?" He asked sheepishly.

"No, but I have something that might help. You should have told me that riding camels made your sick." A'lia pulled a packet from her saddle bag." Here, suck on these, it should help." She said, holding out a few granules to him in the palm of her hand."

"What is it?" he asked, picking up one up in his fingers, sniffing it.

"It is a crystallized tree sap called frankincense and will help with your nausea."

Illya cocked his head, recalling when he was little the celebration of the Theophany; one of the gifts the wise men had brought to the Christ child was frankincense. "Thank you, " he said, popping the granules into his mouth. The irony that one of the magi was called Balthasar was not lost on him either.

"We will rest for a bit until you feel a bit better." she said.

"No, we need to keep going. I will be fine."

"Ilyãs I insist, as I find the color of your skin most distressing. It looks almost green. I have never seen anything like it. How is that possible?"

"It has to do with the paleness of my skin," he laughed, but not feeling up to arguing with her; he relented. They sat, garnerng some shade from the camels. At this point Illya was a little more comfortable that he wasn't going to be spat upon by one of the disgusting beasts, at least not just yet, though he eyed his camel warily.

"Ilyãs, I have a question about the ceremony with the suitors. How did you know that you were choosing the correct casket? If you had chosen wrongly you would have died?"

He smiled."Firstly nothing is guaranteed in life, so I was not sure it was the correct one, but based upon a clue that your father gave; I hoped that it was the right one...lately my life has been filled with nothing but hopes."

"And what was that clue? I recall none?" My father is quite clever with his riddles and stories, but the one about the camel race was of no significance other that to have a mere slave humiliate the suitors."A'lia realized what she said was insulting to him. "Sorry I did not mean to belittle you."

"Trust me, no offense was taken." Illya smiled.

"Your father called you his jewel, his pearl beyond price. I noticed there was a small seed pearl inlaid above the clasp on the wooden box. None of the other caskets had any such decoration. The pearl was the clue."

"Ah! You are a clever one...but you were lucky. My father has been known to give false clues."

"Really? Then I suppose I was lucky." He swallowed some water from the small bag on his belt, rinsed his mouth, then stood. " It is time we got moving again" Then a sudden bout of dizziness hit him.

He indulged himself a few more minutes rest as he flopped back down to the sand, though he had to admit once the frankincense took effect he did feel better. It would not help with the light headedness, so that he would still have to endure.

"Yalla my lady. I am much improved, thank you." He said a few minutes later.

A'lia knew that he was lying, though his color had returned somewhat. But he was a man and her upbringing told her it was not her place question or to challenge him further, even though he was not of the faith and a type of man she was not accustomed to.

Illya climbed on board his beastly ship, giving it a prod with his heel and riding crop. "Hut hut," he called out, getting the camel to rise. All the while he tightened his stomach muscles readying himself for the rough ride. He pulled his scarf up to protect against the sun and sand, watching A'lia mount her camel doing the same, listening carefully as she told him of her plans.

"We make for the paps of Sheba, they are a small rocky outcrop and part of an oasis that has the most refreshing and clear water that flows from the rocks. Date trees are plentiful, so there we can camp and rest."

"For someone who has spent their their life sequestered in a compound; your knowledge of the outside world is quite impressive. "

"I not only read Ilyãs, but I listen well."

He was sure by the look in her beautiful brown eyes that he was detecting a smile behind the blue scarf that covered her face. And the name the paps of Sheba took his mind to envisioning the rest of A'lia's anatomy hidden beneath all those robes.

"Sheba?" he asked, "as in the Queen of Sheba?"

"Yes, it is one of the names for the legendary queen of Ethiopia, whom we called Balqis, she was said to have come from the city of Sheba, and was converted by Suleiman." A'lia pulled out a silver filagree pendant from beneath her robes. "This is the hand of Fatima, legend has it the the Queen wore it to protect herself from the evil of the jinn."

"Jinn as in a genie?" Illya smiled.

"Oh yes the jinn are supernatural creatures who live in a world alongside that of mankind. The Qur'an says they are made of smokeless flame or scorching fire, but they can assume many forms, vultures, snakes, tall men in white robes. They can assume human form to mislead humankind, though like human beings they can be evil, good or naturally benevolent."

"King Solomon, the Queen of Sheba and jinni, those are most unexpected topics. I supposes you wouldn't be interested in discussing the five pillars of Islam?"

"Ilyãs, for a man who is not of Allah, you are most certainly well versed in things of the Qur'an."

"A'lia, like you books were and still are my friends. The Christian bible which has many parallel stories in it like the Qur'an, to me are just more books to be read, I mean that with no disrespect."

"None, taken."

"Though I have one true friend, "Illya suddenly added, " His name is Napoleon and I was hoping he would be the instrument of my rescue, but in the end I could not wait for his arrival."

"How could he find you Ilyãs, once a man has been sold into slavery it is near impossible for a man's loved ones to ever find him. A man lost that way is considered as good as dead and is mourned."

Illya held up the silver homing disc between his fingers. "This is a device that is used to help track some one by emitting an electronic signal; as long as Napoleon is within range with his equipment, he can detect the signal from this and will be pointed in the right direction. The closer he gets, the stronger the signal will become. I can only hope that he has been looking for me and can only assume that he has not been close enough to pick up a good signal. I have been on the move, changing directions for many days until I arrived at your father's compound.

"Are you so sure he searches for you?"

"Absolutely."

"This is a true friend who would do this for you."

"Yes he is a true friend indeed."

A'lia held up the filagree hand, the silver catching the sun from it's polished surface. "Well Ilyãs, you have your magic disc and I have the magic of the hand of Fatima to protect us from the jinni."

Illya smiled thinking as intelligent as A'lia was, she was still able to believe in such superstitious nonsense. " I am familiar with the Moroccan tale of the genie that can magically grant three wishes, as I read the French translation of _A Thousand and One Arabian Nights_. There were many such tales of the jinn, but they were just that...stories. They do not really exist."

Though he knew they were just skazka_fairytales, the Russian word came to mind as he reminded himself that many such tales had some basis in fact.

"According to tradition," A'lia said, the jinn stood behind learned humans in the court of Suleiman the Great, who in turn sat behind the prophets. The jinn remained in the service of Suleiman, who placed them into bondage and to this day guard his great mines.

"King Solomon's mines? Illya laughed out loud. "There is no such thing," he thought of the story of the treasures of Solomon's mines and his Queen of Sheba, thought to be equally as wealthy.

She became a little miffed at that. " Laugh all you want, as it is a true story!" She tapped her camel with the riding crop, making it trot ahead of the Russian.

.

Narcissus seemed nervous, finally admitting the truth to Napoleon about how the slavers had taken she, Illya and her men and how she tricked Illya into helping her escape as they camped out beneath the desert stars for the night. She was afraid that the slavers would come again in the middle of the night, but made no attempt to snuggle up to her companion, and at this point her protector.

She had finally gotten Napoleon's message that he was done with her and the "by any means necessary" comment had planted just enough of a seed of doubt in her head to make her behave; though deep down inside she knew that Napoleon Solo was not a cold-hearted killer, unlike that Russian partner of his.

She was impressed at Solo's devotion to the man and his willingness to endure these hardships to rescue him; though the diamonds were part of the equation, it seemed Kuryakin's safety was of the greater concern.

Her diamonds were probably long gone, sold off by the slavers to some dealer in gems, and the prototype weapon lay buried beneath the sand thanks to the storm, that left her little to worry about now but to bide her time until she could maneuver an escape.

For now she would have to cooperate, playing the U.N.C.L.E. agent's game, but as soon as an opportunity arose to her advantage; she would take it. She had no intention of falling into the hands of his organization; ending up in one of their terrible prison facilities. She'd heard rumors of mistreatment, torture and drug-induced stupors...though she smiled as she realized this made the so-called good guys no different than Thrush.

Napoleon looked across the campfire at Narcissus, thinking it was such a terrible waste. She was a beautiful woman caught up in her own vanity and self-importance, working for an organization that would get rid of her in a heart-beat.

None of Thrush's operatives seemed to realize the precariousness of their association with such a nefarious organization, though in reality they were just as expendable any U.N.C.L.E. agent. But at least UNCLE's people weren't done away with for such a simple reason as reaching retirement age.

It was a shame she couldn't be turned, possibly to work as a double agent, but she was too deeply embedded in Thrush's nest. Narcissus was deadly, but still not in the same category as Angelique or Serena.

"Napoleon?" she called to him." These handcuffs are just too uncomfortable on my wrists, I've been wearing them all day. Can't you please do something about them? I promise I'll be good and won't run away. " She cooed at him mustering all the sincerity that she could.

"I think I can do something to alleviate that." He walked over to her, removing the cuffs from her.

"Thank you," she said, rubbing her wrists, "as I said, I'll behave."

"Oh I know you won't," he smiled grabbing hold of her ankle, locking a cuff onto it, then the other. Then he returned to his bed roll, laying down as he gave her a look of satisfaction. He showed her his Walther, that he tucked under his arm before settling in for the night.

Narcissus glared at him from across the crackliing flames, then finally laid down with out saying a word of complaint.

The next day they broke camp, and after but a few hours ride, they arrived at the compound of Sheik Ali el-Mahdi Karmaj located just at the edge of the Ourika valley. He pulled brought the jeep to a stop, parking it outside the main gate.

"Look, put on your hijab, cover your face and don't even think about opening your mouth. I don't think this man is going to be as hospitable as our last host, so just let me do all the talking and follow my lead if you want to get out of this with your life."

"These people mean serious business here when it comes to slaves, so don't draw any undue attention to yourself or your fanny could end up as one of their newest acquisitions, got it?"

"I don't have to be your wife again do I?"

"Nooo, but you do need you to act demure and humble? I know that's a bit of a stretch for you, but you're an _excellent_ actress."

She was going to say something at the backhanded compliment that he had just given her, but then changed her mind." You _do_ have a plan don't you?"

"I'm kind of making that up as I go along...being a kind of a fly by the seat of my pants sort of strategist." He checked the signal from Illya's homing disc, finding it weaker than he had expected it to be and not sure what that meant.

Narcissus just shook her head as she rolled her eyes at him. She was learning quite a bit about the great Napoleon Solo, and doing so she now realized why Thrush always had trouble with the man. He was just too unpredictable, except when it came to his loyalty to that abominable Russian; thinking that perhaps was a weakness that could eventually be exploited.

He undid her handcuffs, reminding her that trying to escape was futile as she was in the middle of no where in slaver country and would most likely end up on an auctioneers platform if she tried wandering off.

Napoleon knocked on the gate, when a trap door opened.

"Who are you?" The young boy asked in heavily accented French, since Solo did not look Arabic.

"My name is Solo, Napoleon Solo and my companion and I seek respite and an audience with your master. We are in search of someone. Might your master permit entry to weary travelers?"

Napoleon knew those words would gain them admittance as a servant would not let his master be shamed by violating the rules of hospitality to those who were obviously not beggars.

The gate opened and the young man politely introduced himself as Naser, then lead them through a large courtyard with a large fluted fountain in its center.

Napoleon noticed a number of people of people with slave collars around their necks moving about their tasks, but Illya was no where to be seen. The weak signal on the tracking device made him wonder how accurate Marie's information had been.

Naser showed them to a room where they were to wait, then several servants arrived with wash basins, pitchers of water and towels for them to freshen up. They were served mint tea and fresh fruit.

Once ready they were lead to a small receiving room where an elegantly dressed man wearing a turban was seated in a regal looking chair.

"This is the master Sheik Ali el-Mahdi Karmaj. Master this is Napoleon Solo."

"I do not mean to be rude Mr. Solo," the Sheik spoke in French, but my time is short as we are in the midst of my daughter's wedding preparations. What may I do to be of service to you?"

"We are in search of my sister's husband who went missing a week ago and received word that he might be here." He handed Naser the photo of Illya, noticing the boy's eyes go wide with recognition.

"His name is Illya Kuryakin, and he is my sister's husband." He watched Narcissus' reaction out of the corner of his eye, noting that she behaved herself.

For a brief moment the Sheik's eyes gave himself away, then his expression went blank.

At that moment the house Steward appeared, approaching his master, bending forward, he whispered something into the Sheik's ear.

"What?" The Mahdi blurted out, red faced.

The steward, assuming he would be struck, spoke out. "Yes master, Ahmed was found in the courtyard, his jaw was broken and Ilyãs and your daughter are missing. They are no where to be found and there are three camels missing as well. Ahmed indicated he caught them leaving sometime during the night."

"YOU! Woman!" The Sheik pointed his finger at Narcissus, "prepare to become a widow, as that dog of a husband of yours will die for tricking me into permitting him to marry my daughter, then to dare sneak off with her in the middle of the night. That Kifir, that defiler of my jewel! You should count yourself lucky that you will be free of a deceiver such as he for he is now a dead man!"

"You Mr. Solo and this woman, leave my house!"

They were ushered out and through the gate quickly by the boy Naser with the help of several husky looking guards.

"You are the friend Ilyãs spoke of. "Naser whispered," Seek the paps of Sheba in the desert, for that is surely where they will head."

"What is that?" Napoleon asked quietly.

"It is an oasis due east, you cannot miss it as as there are two large rocky outcroppings, that are the breasts of Sheba, the pool is called the milk of Sheba. I hope you find Ilyãs, he is a kind man."

"Thank you Naser." He said, then called to Narcissus. "Get in!"

She jumped into the seat without a word, not wanting to be left behind at the mercy of this slaver's household.

Napoleon started up the engine, hitting the gas as she barely had the time to get it before he floored it, leaving a cloud of dust behind them.

"We have to put some distance between the Sheik and his men as they're going to be coming after Illya too."

"Kuryakin running off with a girl...that's unusual for his tastes isn't it?"she laughed.

"Narcissus, enough with the innuendo. Illya does not lean in that direction, period. So drop it will you?"

The homing signal was still sounding as they headed off into the desert, but not far behind them, following his own tracking signal that he'd planted in Solo's jeep was Adolphus Kruger, the suitor from the Island of Rhodes.


	14. Chapter 14

It was getting late when Illya and A'lia finally spotted the oasis in the distance.

"It is not a mirage?" he called out her cautiously.

"No it is not."

"How did you know how to find this place?"

"With this, " A'lia smiled as she pulled her scarf away from her face, holding up a compass in her hand.

"Ah clever these native Moroccans," he smiled. The two struck the camels with their riding crops, urging them to gallop towards the island of green in the midst a sea of sand. Illya saw rising up above the trees, two rocky outcroppings that he surmised were the paps of Sheba.

The oasis was as wonderful as A'lia had said; lush green grass, plenty of trees for shade and of course the pool of water whose source ran down from the rocks like milk from a mother's breasts.

They topped off their water skins kneeling at the pool's edge; then A'lia playfully splashed Illya with her hand, then he did towards her. Before they knew it they had toppled in the water fully clothed, laughing together.

Illya pulled her up from the water towards him, their lips brushing for a moment. He kissed but then pulled away. "No this cannot be." he warned. though by the look in her eyes, he knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He could not risk her having a girlish infatuation with him, and he would not take advantage of that, even though he was attracted to her.

He helped her from the pool, musing to himself that the wet clothes felt good in the heat, but one by one he peeled off the layers until he was left with just a pair of leggings. A'lia disrobed while his back was turned, slipping back into the water.

"Join me Ilyãs," she called to him, as he draped their clothing out to dry. He avoided looking in her direction as he built a fire to prepare a meal, ignoring her entreaties though the erection in his pants urged him not to.

Concentrating on methodically unloading some supplies, a cooking pot, dried meats, vegetables, spices and couscous to be prepared; his amorous thoughts finally diminished. He wandered off, gathering some fresh dates. Putting enough distance between he and A;lia for the girl to abandon the pool in privacy She dressed herself quickly in her already dry clothes.

"You do not wish to bathe?" she called to him.

"No, I will be fine," he said, daring not to strip down and risk a renewed state of excitement. He couldn't take advantage of her like this, it wasn't right, even though she was a willing partner.

"Ilyãs you have readied the makings of a meal, that is the work of a woman or a sla..."

"You were going to say slave were you not?"

"I am sorry, yes I was. You have to understand, that is how I was raised."

"I do, " he said to her with just a bit of annoyance in his voice, " but you need to realize that slavery is wrong. No one has the right to own another human being. Everyone has a right to their own personal dignity and freedom to choose their life. Is that not what you want for yourself?"

"The country where I came from...the Soviet Union did not believe in the rights of the individual, only in the collective. Everyone owed their meager existence to and for the good of the State. I grew up having my entire life controlled, just like you. My life was not my own, just as yours has not been. If you wish to live a life away from here, " he waved his arm in a broad sweep of the landscape," then you must understand that you are no better or different than anyone else."

He walked away from her, taking the black cast-iron pot with him to fill with water. When he returned he let A'lia have her way, preparing and cooking the modest, but aromatically spiced stew for the both of them, when they finished their meal they drank mint tea, ate fresh dates, then prepared to bed down for the night. They unfurled their bedrolls; Illya making sure that his was a proper distance from A'lia, lest temptation become too much for him.

"Ilyãs, it will be cold tonight, the desert can become quite cool very quickly once the sun has set, would it not be better if we lay close together?"

"A'lia, much that I would like to lay with you right now...I cannot. Please do not be offended, as you are a very beautiful young woman, and I admit that I am attracted to you, but now is not the time."

"Ilyãs if you are worried that it is because you think I am a virgin, fear not. My father thinks I am...but I have already had several lovers."

"I'm sorry A'lia, that will not change my mind...for the moment. Now close your eyes and sleep, we must get an early start in the morning."

Illya rolled to his side with his back facing to the her as he fought to calm the renewed excitement in his pants.

.

The next morning Napoleon and Narcissus had an early start, at least it was just after sunrise so that was early to her. Surprisingly she had not complained about the sleeping accommodations or being woken.

The sky was red, and that to Napoleon did not bode well, wondering if the old sailor's adage about a red sky in the morning carried over to a desert sky.

It wan't long before dark billowing clouds appeared on the morning horizon, followed by white flashes of lightning; he could hear the rumbles of thunder in the distance.

They quickly packed up the jeep, putting up the canvas top and securing the side flaps, not bothering to worry about eating anything. They had to stay ahead of the approaching storm, not knowing how bad it would be.

The winds began grow steadily as Napoleon knew they they were fighting a losing battle to stay beyond the storm. The winds stirred up the sands into a bilious wall that was moving up quickly behind them. The increasing signal from the homing disc urged Napoleon onward; that at least was giving him hope that Illya was not far off, and was hopefully at the oasis called the paps of Sheba as the boy Naser had told him.

.

Illya woke, feeling a sand-filled blast of wind hit him in the face. He sat up, seeing ominous weather looming from the west. The sky was filled with black clouds and skeletal fingers of lightning were reaching out from them. Then there was a huge clap of thunder, following by another sharp gust of hot wind; it could only mean one thing.

"A'lia!" He called waking her. " There is a shimoom coming, we must find cover!"

The girl grabbed her blanket, throwing it over her head to protect her from the beginnings of the sandstorm." Come, there is a cave!" she called. They grabbed the reins, leading the camels after them to the back side of one of the rocky outcrops. "There!" she called, "we will have to leave the camels the outside, but we should take our water bags and supplies in with us, as sand could ruin them all!.

"The camels?" He shouted.

"Will not fit, they will survive; they are accustomed to this land. Now hurry before the sand hits us! " They turned to see an immense wall of sand barreling down on them like a giant tidal wave.

They grabbed the supplies, throwing them into the cave before stooping to enter themselves.

Illya and A'lia huddled together under their blankets, trying to protect their eyes, nostrils and lungs from the dust that was billowing into the mouth of the cave.

"We must go farther inside!" He yelled at her, pulling the girl to her feet as he dragged her back into the darkness. He threw an extra blanket over their supplies, leaving them there as they retreated deeper into the cave.

The dust cloud lessened the father they went, then Illya found several torches. He dug around in the one pack he had dragged with them until he found matches then lit the torches, at least giving them some illumination in the midst of the darkness.

Brilliant colors suddenly caught his attention as his eyes were drawn to the walls of the cave. They looked like the ancient paintings he had seen in the temples of Egypt, with bright ochre, greens yellows and blues.

"A'lia, do you know what this is?"

"They say these are tributes to Bilqis herself. See, she sits on her throne, and beside her stands Suleiman himself and at their feet are depicted the great treasures, from his mines. These are very ancient, before the time the Queen of Sheba was converted, as it is forbidden to depict such imagery in the Qur'an."

The paintings clearly showed the paps of Sheba as the backdrop to the portrait of the Queen and Solomon, making Illya wonder if this were some sort of message.

.

The winds were beginning to buffet the jeep violently back and forth, though Solo could still see though the gusts of sand, but visibility was becoming poorer by the minute. The winds were beginning to hit the dunes hard, as he watched them beginning to move and shift like the tides on the surface of water.

There was something dark in the distance, what he could barely make out what looked like trees. Suddenly the jeep stalled.

"Shit!" Napoleon cursed, as he tried to start it a few more times. He reached around back, grabbing their bedrolls, tossing one to Narcissus. "Wrap that around your head and cover your mouth and nose."

"What are you crazy? I'm not going to go out in that?"

"We can't stay here, this jeep could be buried in the sand in minutes. That's got to be the oasis ahead, we can dig in there! Now grab a backpack and hold on to me and what ever you do, don't let go!" He checked the homing signal on the dashboard one more time, finding it beeping strong and steady, meaning that it was within a hundred yards or less. It had to be coming from the oasis.

Then something made him reach beneath his seat, grabbing the strange box-like device that he had found what seemed like ages ago, when he first began his search for his partner. He shoved it into the safety of his pocket, then held onto the jeep as he stepped out, making his way around to the passenger side, getting hold of Narcissus, holding tightly onto her hand as he lead her towards their dark haven amid the blowing sands.

They leaned into the wind fighting against it as they pushed their way to the oasis. It was almost impossible to see now but then they felt the grass beneath their feet. They kept moving until the heard the belching roar of a camel, moving towards it amidst the howling wind and booming thunder, until they found three beasts kneeling down in front of an entrance to a small cave.

Napoleon pushed Narcissus inside first then crawled in after her, both of them still with their blankets wrapped tightly about themselves.

Once his eyes adjusted to the dark, he urged her forward to get them away from the sand and dust that was blowing in after them.

There was a light in the distance, as they continued moving forward.

Suddenly Napoleon saw a familiar blond head shining in the torchlight.

"Hey is there any room at the inn?"he called out.

Illya leapt to his feet, grinning from ear to ear. "Napoleon! I knew you would not give up on me!"

The two men grabbed each other in a back-slapping bear hug.

"What no wise crack about being late?"

Illya lowered his head, smiling slightly, "No not this time my friend. You are very much a sight for tired eyes."

"That's sore eyes." Napoleon corrected him.

"Sore, tired what does it matter? I am still pleased to see you."

"Same here buddy, but I have to admit you didn't make it easy to find you."

"I was not exactly in a position to do that." Illya half hid his smile, then his expression went cold when he spotted Narcissus lurking in the shadows behind his partner "You! Vy chertovski suka_you fucking bitch!"

"So how was it being a slave? I'm sure it suited that boring personality of yours." Narcissus said.

"I should kill you with my bare hands!" Illya snarled as he took a step towards her, but Napoleon stepped in his way.

"Now is not the time tovarisch. I'd much prefer us all getting out of this alive, and let the Old Man decide what he wants done with her. Alright?"

"Da, kak vy hotite_yes, as you wish," he said allowing himself to calm down.

"So are you going to introduce your charming companion?" Napoleon smiled as he eyed A'lia. He saw his partner looking suddenly very shy, and if the light hadn't already been tinged red by the flames from the torches, he would have sworn Illya was blushing.

"This is A'lia the daughter of Sheik Ali el-Mahdi Karmaj...my former master, but that is another story for another time, just as will be my payback to you Narcissus." he added for good measure.

"Shame you didn't die you stinking Russian."

"Narcissus enough!" Napoleon snapped at her, then turned his attention back to the Sheik's daughter.

"A'lia, this is the friend I spoke of, Napoleon Solo." Illya said.

She nodded, but said nothing, simply covering her face modestly with her scarf.

"So Napoleon did our little bird here fill you in on their real plans for the faux diamonds?" Illya asked.

"What do you mean? They had something different in mind from what we thought?"

"Most definitely," Illya said. "The diamonds were being used in a prototype laser as it's prism. They eventually planned to use full sized models with much larger manufactured diamonds, launching them into space mounted on satellites; their first targets being the U.N. then both the American and Soviet defense systems...quite a devious plan and far from the financial ruin that were first thought their goal."

Napoleon suddenly had a strange look, as he reached into his jacket pocket.

"The prototype, it wouldn't happen to be this would it?"

"My machine!" Narcissus cried out, " you beast, you had it all this time?"

Illya turned to the girl. " A'lia, may I have your diamond necklace please?"

She reached beneath her robes, undoing the chain then pulling it out, handing to him.

He pried the largest of the diamonds free from the soft silver-pronged setting, handing the necklace back to her, then taking the device from Napoleon's hand; he mounted the gem in place.

Suddenly the cave filled with a bright flash, blinding them all momentarily

A'lia screamed as she saw a tall white figure looming behind Illya and the others as the smoke and their vision cleared."Ay-ah! It is a jinn! He has come to punish us for trespassing!"

Napoleon turned, seeing a man completely robed in white with a head wrap and scarf masking his features but he was holding a weapon aimed in their direction.

"A'lia, I don't think genies have need of handguns." Napoleon said.

"And you _slave_, Ilyãs, I'll take that device. Hand it here." A familiar German voice spoke.

"Adolphus Kruger I presume." Napoleon said.

"Kruger!" Narcissus hissed, " You took your sweet time getting here!"

"And you Narcissus are lucky that Central has not issued an order to eliminate you for your incompetence."

She ignored the comment, instead grabbing the prototype weapon from Illya's hands.

"And he is not the slave Ilyãs you idiot, he is U.N.C.L.E. agent Illya Kuryakin."

"Really? Such an oversight on my part, but no matter. He and you Solo are soon to be a pair of very dead U.N.C.L.E. agents." Kruger said.

"What about the girl?" Illya asked.

"Oh she will be coming with us, once the storm has ended, I will be returning her to her father for a substantial reward no doubt. Though the idea a having her as a bride and bedding her is still a possibility, as her father might just reward me with her hand for having killed the slave who deceived him and kidnapped his daughter. Though I'm not sure if I'd want baggage such as she, and I'm sure I would tire of her quickly."

Kruger flipped a switch on the device, powering it up. Just as the signal reached it's highest pitch indicating it was ready to fire, Illya and Napoleon both made their move, diving at the man and Narcissus.

The weapon went flying from Kruger's hand as it fired; the intense beam of light strafing across the cave ceiling and then down along a side wall, bringing rocks crashing down around them all.

When the dust cleared, they realized the opening to the cave had been sealed in, filled over completely with huge boulders.

The laser was laying on the cave floor, minus the diamond that was now buried somewhere among the stones and debris scattered everywhere.

"You fools!" Narcissus shrieked, "now look what you've done!"

Napoleon and Illya helped each other up, dusting off their clothes as they helped A'lia to her feet.

"Are you alright?" Illya whispered to her.

"Yes, but is he an evil jinn?" she asked eyeing Kruger.

"No," Illya laughed, " just an ignorant lackey for an evil organization called Thrush."

"Thrush, is that not a bird?"

"It stands for...never mind," Illya said, "it is too much of a mouthful to even bother saying."

"Enough of your jabbering Kuryakin!" Narcissus spoke. " Now you girl, give me those other stones."

A'lia reached for her necklace, then panicked as she searched desperately, not finding it.

"Look for it!" Narcissus hissed, " that laser is our only hope of getting out of here! We need those gems!"

After several minutes of searching and digging about, it was obvious the necklace along with the loose gem were buried somewhere and would be impossible to find.

"I suggest that we explore the opening in the cave wall, "Illya said calmly, "perhaps it will lead us to another way out?"

"Fine, you lead the way...slave." Narcissus said, rubbing his recent experience like salt into a wound.

Napoleon and Illya glanced at each other warily as they grabbed torches, leading the way into another darkened cave, followed by A'lia, Narcissus then Kruger who still had possession of his handgun.

"We are going down," Illya whispered to his partner, "feel the incline changing?"

"Is that good or bad?"

Illya only shrugged his answer.

"Shut up you two!" Kruger growled at them, "No talking!"

After a while Narcissus called them to a halt. "This is getting us no where."

"You have a better option?" Napoleon asked.

"Quiet Solo! Let me think."

"I was wondering what that burning smell was." Napoleon said, immediately receiving a slap in the face for his smart remark.

"We keep going, now move it!" She ordered.

A short while later they could see a thin shaft of light beaming down from somewhere high above them, the light illuminating something that seemed to sparkle.

"What is that? A'lia asked.

The agents moved along the walls of an apparently larger cave, finding more torches along the way. They lit them one by one, each positioned in front of what looked like large polished shields. Illya wiped away the layers of dirt, allowing the metal surface to reflect the light from the torch. He and Napoleon did that for each one they found until the cave was bathed in the dancing flames of torch light.

"Look!" A'lia gasped, pointing at mounds and mounds of what looked like gold, urns goblets, chests filled with coins, pearls and jewels. There were gem encrusted scepters and breast-plates, staffs tipped with golden head pieces inlaid with rubies, pale blue necklaces of Persian turquoise and dark blue lapis lazuli.

"Ilyãs! It must be the treasure of Suleiman!" A'lia gasped.

"Suleiman...as in King Solomon? King Solomon's mines?" Narcissus said in wonder as she grabbed a handful of pearls and gemstone necklaces.

"I stand corrected." Illya laughed, " I thought it only a myth."

"You fools, don't you realize we've not only found a way to get out, but we've found one of the greatest treasures known to mankind?"Narcissus placed a jeweled diadem on her head, lifting one of the golden scepters in her hand. "Who needs Central?" she laughed out loud. "I'll be the richest woman on the face of the earth, and with this sort of wealth comes power!"

"And what about my cut Narcissus?" said Kruger. " If I hadn't shown up then this treasure would still lie hidden."

"Don't worry Kruger," Illya said, " I am sure she will see to it you get your pound of flesh, befitting that of a Thrush _Shylock_."

"You three," Narcissus barked at them, "On your hands and knees and find me a large diamond. One I can use in the laser. I'll burn a new opening to escape, but unfortunately you will remain here, as this treasure trove will become your tomb. Now move and start searching!"

Illya, Napoleon and A'lia went down on their hands and knees, digging through the piles of gold and silver objects, finding gems and jewels of every kind and description, but no larger diamonds.

"Here!" A'lia called out, holding up a diamond pendant. " I have found one!" It looked to be at least ten carats in weight, but was crudely cut and polished.

Narcissus snatched the jewel from the girl's hand, prying it from its setting, putting it in the cradle for the laser.

"Narcissus, that is not a good idea." Illya warned. " do not do it."

"Shut up you know it all Russian!" she yelled at him as the device began to pulsate faster and faster, the signal from it increasing in intensity.

"I suggest we take cover now," Illya warned Napoleon and A'lia, pulling them behind the shelter of a large rock.

The weapon began to glow as Narcissus aimed it towards the opening in the cave above their heads, then suddenly light began to emit from the device, not in one steady steam but firing wildly, sending the beams of light in different uncontrolled directions.

The ceiling of the cave roared as it collapsed in an instant, coming down upon Narcissus and Adolphus Kruger.

When the rumbling and dust settled, Illya, A'lia and Napoleon rose from the safety of their hiding place. An opening to the outside world had appeared through a side wall, sending them scrambling up and out of the cave just before there was another great cave in, sealing it closed forever behind them.

The knelt on the ground for a few minutes, coughing from the dust as they tried to catch their breath. Illya looked back at where the cave open had been, suddenly reciting a bit of Shakespeare.

_"All that glisters is not gold, often you have heard it told. Many a man his life has sold...Gilded tombs, to worms enfold, had you been wise as bold...fare you well, your suit is cold."_

"Waxing a bit poetic aren't you chum?" Napoleon said, offering his hand to the Russian, helping him to his feet.

"Not really, this whole think has smacked a bit of the dramatic, almost mirroring parts on one of Shakespeare's plays."

"Ah, now I get the Shylock remark...The Merchant of Venice, if I'm not mistaken?" Napoleon asked.

Illya suddenly reached out, grabbing A'lia in his arms, kissing her with great passion, while his partner stood by, rolling his eyes, wondering what that was all about.

.

Three weeks later Solo and Kuryakin had returned from the Paris headquarters of U.N.C.L.E. having filed their report on the affair in Morocco. The results being the prototype weapon destroyed, the faux diamonds lost in the cave-in and of course the deaths of Narcissus Darling and Adolphus Kruger, the loss of both would be a blow to Thrush's hierarchy for the moment.

Napoleon and Illya did however leave out the fact that the cave possibly contained the lost treasures of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba; that information was better off left unknown. If it were ever discovered, the problems it could cause would be quite insurmountable, especially if it were Thrush that got their hands on that amount of wealth.

Napoleon had gone off in search of some lunch, while Illya had gone off shopping with A'lia, helping to attire her in wardrobe more befitting a new entry-level employee of U.N.C.L.E.'s Paris logistics office' her position there given as she was even more intelligent than Illya had first surmised.

Napoleon returned to their suite at L'Hotel, a secret hideaway at the heart of the left bank amidst the cultural riches, bohemian and high fashion of St. German-des- Prés. The hotel's unique circular design giving it an elegant, but mysterious atmosphere.

Solo approached their door, when it suddenly opened and a hand appeared holding what looked like a sock.

"Excuse me?" he said to his partner, then heard Illya whisper a few words to him, holding his hand out, palm up through the opening in the door."

Solo shook his head with a smile as he opened his wallet, withdrawing a familiar foil packet, placing it in to the Russian's hand. Illya suddenly snapped his fingers indicating another. Napoleon pulled a second packet from his wallet, placing it in the waiting hand.

He watched as Illya obviously in a state of undress peek out giving him a wink, "A'lia give you her regards." With that the door was closed slowly in his face. Then he heard the word "Spacibo" called out to him.

He wasn't really surprised by that move, knowing the Russian was attracted to the girl. A quote from Shakespeare suddenly came to mind, after remembering Illya's own poetic moment with words from the bard a few weeks prior.

"_All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they all have their exits and their entrances, and one in his time plays many parts..._enjoy this part tovarisch." Napoleon smiled as he walked away to find some feminine companionship of his own for the evening.

.

A month later a courier arrived at the compound of Sheik Ali el-Mahdi Karmaj, a man seeking the purchase on behalf of a buyer a young slave named Naser. When the Sheik saw the amount of the offer he was shocked.

"Surely no slave is worth his amount?" He questioned the offer of 4,000 darahim; quite less than equivalent of $400 in American currency. It was all the money the buyer had squirreled away to use for a vacation he had been planning.

The Sheik made no hesitation in accepting the offer, thinking the buyer was a fool. But who was he to judge? The sale was made and the boy was taken away in the custody of the representative of his new master.

Naser sat beside the man who drove the the jeep away from his former home, the only one he had ever known. He studied the man's unfamiliar profile, then became frightened as he watched him remove a dark wig, and peel away a bearded mask from his face.

"Ilyãs! You are alive!" The boy laughed in delight.

"But of course I am." Illya smiled, " Naser, how would you like to go to school to learn to read and write?"

"I do as commanded master," he bowed his head reverently.

"Naser, I am not your master. You are free, you can choose your own life now. I am not commanding that you go to school, merely offering. I have a friend in Cairo, a Professor Mustaffa el-Hazziz who is the curator of the Museum of Egyptology. * And he is most willing for you to come live with him and his family while you study."

"He would welcome me into his home?"

"Yes Naser, you would be welcome as a friend not a servant or a slave. But it will not be an easy life, though free you still need to work hard to educate yourself."

"I think you will be very happy to know that the lady A'lia is alive and well. She had embraced her freedom and now she too understands how terrible slavery is."

"Is she there is Cairo?"

"No, and I think it best that you do not know where she is."

"Will you be there in Cairo then Ilyãs?"

"No, my work will not permit it, though I may be able to visit you from time to time. So what is your choice, Marrakesh or Cairo?"

"Cairo." The boy smiled.

"I thought so," Illya smiled back at him. He reached beneath the seat, withdrawing a book then handing it to the boy. "A gift for you, your first book. It it a copy of _A Thousand and One Arabian Nights,_" he smiled.

.

FINIS

* ref "The See the Pyramids Along the Nile Affair"

Author's note: special shout out to Avery1 for her love of Shakespeare and her inspiration for me to explore the writings of "the bard."


End file.
